Alphabet Soup
by Sherlockian87
Summary: Sherlolly one-shots/little drabbles based around each letter of the alphabet. I'm posting them all together, in alphabetical order ... so a lot of these you've all already read (rating varies from teen-mature)
1. Angry

**Inspired by a photo-shopped picture I came across on tumblr :) Tried to link it here but it's just not working, even tried to post it in a review :-/**

**If you want to see the photo you'll have to go to my story on Archive of Our Own, FF wont let me post a link! I'm under the same name there!**

Angry

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><p>"You're angry with me." Sherlock noted.<p>

"Oh well spotted. Didn't need your deduction skills for that one, did you?" Molly spat out.

She was glaring at him from her seat in John's chair. She was wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns, the blue one. She was hugging a pillow and had her feet tucked under her. Sherlock was sitting in his chair across from her, fully dressed and eyeing her apprehensively. He knew exactly why she was angry with him.

"If you think for one second that I know nothing about how this current situation came about, then you better reconsider your line of work."

He narrowed his eyes at her, his lips becoming a thin line, "You actually believe that I have something to do with this?" He had spread his arms out wide, motioning to the whole room. The room was full of boxes. Boxes of Molly's things.

She scoffed, "Of course you did. You're the only one who has ever had a key to my flat. And the lock WASN'T picked. For once. But all the clues point directly to you. I may not have your brilliant skills of detection but I do know how to notice things. All of my stuff was gone. Every single item. And lo and behold, where did it all go? To 221B Baker Street! Of course it was you! Who else has such a flair for the dramatic?"

He sniffed, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, "Why are you so upset about it?"

Molly flung the pillow away and came to her feet. It took her three steps before she was standing directly in front of Sherlock. She leaned forward; placing her hands on the armrests of the chair. The dressing gown was not tied very tightly, nor was she wearing anything underneath it. Her eyes were locked on his. For a moment his drifted away from hers, downwards, before flitting back up.

"I'm upset because you felt that you couldn't just ask me."

His lips parted slightly, "Ahh … well I … I didn't know what your answer would be."

She tilted her head to one side as his hand slipped up over her arm, coming to rest at her wrist.

"Did you think I would say no? After all that we've been through? After all that we've … done?" She gave a suggestive lift of her eyebrow, "You really are pathetically dense sometimes, for being a genius and all."

His thumb was brushing over her pulse point. She knew that he could feel her heart racing. She leaned further forward, until her lips were just about to touch his.

"If you had asked, I would have said yes."

She pulled away from him, returning to her full height. She would have, in fact, stepped back if it had not been for the fact that his hand was still clasped about her wrist. He gave it a gentle tug and she fell down into his lap. He kissed her deeply, and within moments she was kissing him back.

"Don't think for one minute that you're off the hook…!"

He shook his head then brushed his nose against the shell of her ear, "Punish me, Molly Hooper!" His voice was a hoarse whisper as he held her close up against him.

"Mmmmfff … I will … later!"


	2. Brownies

Brownies

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><p>Sherlock and Mycroft had just entered 221B when a most delicious aroma reached their olfactory receptors. Mycroft stilled, sniffing the air.<p>

"What is that delectable smell?" He questioned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, then stated with a smirk, "Brownies. Molly is baking." He hurried up the stairs, Mycroft close on his heels.

"Molly!" Sherlock called out as he unwound his scarf and took off his Belstaff.

Molly stepped out of the kitchen a spatula in her hand, flour dusting her hair and a smear of chocolate upon her cheek. She smiled at him and he walked over to her and gave her a kiss.

"Hello." She murmured against his lips, she then stepped away from him, spotting Mycroft for the first time. A blush rose to her cheeks, "Hello Mycroft! Helping Sherlock with his latest case?"

A low growl erupted from Sherlock's throat. She only chuckled and turned back into the kitchen, Mycroft and Sherlock following closely behind.

"Yes, I am actually. I have some more files for him. He would have happily taken them, but I insisted on coming up to say hello to you." Mycroft explained.

Molly had returned to the sink where she had been placing her dirty baking equipment, "That was sweet of you. You made a wise decision; those just came out of the oven a few minutes ago." She nodded towards the plate of brownies as she filled the sink with water, "Please, have one, or two!"

Sherlock had flung himself into one of the kitchen chairs and again rolled his eyes as Mycroft approached the plate of brownies with a greedy gaze. Sherlock was smirking again, all too well aware of how Mycroft was unable to resist her baking. Molly was drying her hands on a towel, watching as Mycroft took a bite of a brownie, his eyes falling closed; a look of pure bliss coming upon his face. She couldn't help but giggle. He finished the brownie in several more bites, licking the chocolate from his fingers.

"Molly, you are a wonder in the kitchen!"

She blushed, still finding it difficult to accept compliments from the British Government, even though she knew deep down that he really meant them.

"Thank you. Take the whole plate if you like! I'm sure Anthea will want some, that is, if you can allow yourself to share!" She gave him a stern gaze then moved to wrap up the plate; Mycroft quickly snatching another small brownie.

Once he was finished eating he took a firm hold of his umbrella in one hand and the plate in the other and turned to Sherlock, who was still sat at the table, "If you would be so kind as to return to me the files exactly as I have given them to you, it would be greatly appreciated."

Sherlock only gave a grunt in reply, staring straight ahead at the wall. Used to his brother's strange antics, Mycroft turned and placed a kiss upon Molly's cheek before leaving the kitchen.

"Thank you Molly, for the brownies, I will do my best not to eat the entire plate on my way home."

Molly placed her hands upon her hips as she followed him from the kitchen, her stern gaze returning, "You better! I'll be checking in with Anthea to make sure that she got some of the brownies!"

She watched him walk out of 221B then walked back into the flat, and entered the kitchen. Sherlock hadn't moved from the table, but now had his arms tightly crossed and was full-on pouting.

"Did you eat thunder for breakfast?" She questioned him.

He grunted again.

"What's the matter with you? Usually you're not this grumpy when Mycroft visits. This is a bit extreme."

"Brownies." He spat.

Molly's eyebrows rose, "Is that it? You're upset because I gave Mycroft the whole plate of brownies?"

Sherlock humphed, "I am _not_ upset."

Molly rolled her eyes, "I made two batches you ridiculous git! I kept the other plate hidden, just for you, but now that you're in such a strop I may just eat them all myself! Besides, you don't eat while working on a case anyway!" As she spoke she had taken a plate of brownies from the cabinet that she had placed them in.

Sherlock hopped up from the table and was standing beside her within seconds, she held the plate out to him, but when he moved to grab it she pulled it from his reach.

She had an impish look in her eyes, "Do you really think I would give brownies to my brother-in-law and not leave any for my husband?" She shook her head, "Silly man!" With that she turned away from him, plate in hand and flounced from the kitchen, popping a piece of brownie in her mouth.

"Molly!"

Her giggle was the only reply he was given. He stormed out of the kitchen, finding her sat upon the sofa, flourishing the plate of brownies.

"Why don't you come and join me? Or are you determined to stick to your 'no eating while on a case' rule?"

His nose twitched. If they didn't smell so wonderful he knew that he would be able to resist him. Damnit! He was just as bad as Mycroft. And judging by the smirk upon Molly's face, she knew that she had him hooked. If this was her way of getting food into him while he was working, then so be it. He sat himself down beside her and took a brownie, popping the entire thing into his mouth. She watched silently as he leaned back into the cushions, his eyes closing (much in the same way that Mycroft's had!).

"Terrible?"

He couldn't answer because he was still chewing. Molly's smirk grew into a full-blown smile. As soon as he swallowed he turned and cupped the side of her face, pulling her to him for a kiss. She could taste the chocolate on his tongue.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome. I like to keep my man happy, even when he is being a bit of a berk!"

Sherlock just shook his head and took another brownie from the plate, putting his arm around Molly and pulling her close up against him. Yes, she did know exactly how to keep him and make him happy. He was a blessed man.

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**DAMN! Now I want some brownies! :-P**


	3. Christmas

**I originally wrote this way back in September, but I have repeatedly gone back to it and edited it and added more to it, and I didn't want to post it until it got closer to Christmas, and now since it is officialy December ... I have decided to gift it to you all :)**

**HAPPY (smutty) CHRISTMAS!**

**:D**

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><p>Christmas<p>

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><p><em>Twas the night before Christmas<em>

_ And all through the flat_

_ Not a creature was stirring_

_ Not even a cat. _

Molly and Sherlock were curled up together on the sofa in 221B Baker Street, Toby was quite happily curled up on Sherlock's chair. The only light in the room was that from the fading fire, and the twinkle of the fairy lights that had been hung about. Molly was dozing, but Sherlock was wide awake. He enjoyed watching her sleep. She shifted suddenly, curling further into him, letting out a happy sigh.

He smiled into her hair, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head. He smoothed his hand over her hip, brushing his fingertips over the black fabric of her dress. How interesting, he thought to himself, that she had chosen to wear that very same dress. Things certainly were different now, very different; pleasantly different. He caught sight of the silver ring on his finger, the light from the fireplace making it shine. His smile grew wider.

Molly shifted again, murmuring something in her sleep. He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her gently. It took only moments for her to respond and kiss him back. His hand on her hip moved to the small of her back as their kiss deepened. She was letting out soft, happy sighs against his lips. He had moved his hand upwards, reaching the zip of her dress.

"Sherlock don't, it's too cold in here."

He let out a noise of frustration, "I'll build the fire back up then!"

She chuckled at his annoyance, "All right."

He smiled before giving her a quick kiss then pushing himself up off the sofa. She lay there, watching him as he added more wood to the fire and stirred up the coals. He sat back on his haunches, watching his handiwork, waiting for it to burn more brightly. The light from the fireplace created a halo about his curls. This caused her to smile to herself.

As the flames began to grow higher he stood and walked back over to her. He held his hand out and she took it. He pulled her up to her feet, working his arm about her waist and lifting her up towards him. Their lips met in a passionate kiss. He could feel her smiling against his mouth. His hand worked its way back to the zip of her dress, this time she didn't protest. Pulling it downwards, she moaned as his fingers met her flesh. He slipped both his hands up her arms; coming to her shoulders he nudged the straps of the dress off with his fingertips. The dress pooled at her feet.

She stepped back slightly, breaking apart the kiss so that she could kick the dress away from her. His fingers were already working on undoing her bra. That was when she noticed that he was still entirely clothed. She shook her head at him in disappointment. He looked down at her with a quizzical expression. In answer she gave the lapels of his suit jacket a shove backwards. He chuckled and dropped his hands away from her back and shrugged out of the jacket. She gave a small noise of approval. It often happened like this, that neither one of them spoke a word. They didn't need to. It wasn't always necessary.

Her fingers started working on the buttons of his shirt. She had become quite an expert at doing this in a speedy fashion. He had removed her of her bra, his hands now cupping both of her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. As his chest and stomach became revealed she started to place kisses upon his skin. His shirt soon joined her dress on the floor. When she moved her hands down to his trousers and began to undo his belt he placed his own hands on top of hers, stopping her movements.

"Wait a moment." He spoke huskily, she could see in his eyes how far gone he already was, nearly past legible thought.

"Hmmm?"

He stepped back from her and retreated from the room. She shook her head as she moved closer to the fire, kicking off her shoes, wondering what he could have possibly thought of now, at such a time! He returned barefoot, with the duvet and a couple of pillows in his arms. She eyed him quizzically. He dropped these on to the floor, in front of the fire place. She watched as he moved about, shifting the duvet into a makeshift bed, placing the pillows nearby.

"Ahhh…"

He grabbed her, pulling her close up against him once more, taking her hands and putting them back on his belt buckle. She smiled cheekily up at him before standing on her tip toes to kiss him as she undid his belt. Within seconds his trousers were down at his feet. He stepped out of them and kicked them away. They were both now only wearing their pants. She let out a squeal as he scooped her up; he kneeled and laid her down on the duvet.

His mouth began to leave trails of hot wet kisses on her neck, her shoulder, onto her breasts, and down to her stomach as his body hovered over hers. He hooked his fingers around her knickers and with one swift tug he had them pulled down. He tossed them away before burying his face between her legs.

She cried out, his tongue sucking and lapping at her hungrily. She buried her hands in his curls, her fingernails digging slightly into his skin. He let out an almost feral growl. The vibrations of his mouth against her clit caused her to orgasm, it coursing through her body. She had never come so quickly before. He made his way back up to her mouth. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue, cradling his face in her hands. He made quick work of removing himself of his pants as he kissed her in return.

One of his hands was now placed flat against the floor beside her hip; steadying his body above her, his other hand was holding his cock directly at her entrance. He surged his hips forward, just allowing the tip of his cock to enter her. They moaned in unison when he moved again, inserting himself fully inside of her. She slipped her hands down his back, grabbing onto his arse, pulling him tightly against her. He groaned into her mouth as he kissed her again.

"Make love to me, Sherlock." She panted to him.

The firelight danced across his skin as he slowly thrust into her, over and over. She held on to his shoulders, her back arching into him, reveling in the feeling of him moving inside of her.

"Oh God, Sherlock! I love you, I love you so much!"

He huffed slightly, "Love you, love you too!"

They kissed, lost in the moment of their bodies moving as one. The speed of his thrusts began to increase, he could feel himself getting close, so close. Her moans started to grow louder, more constant, with a few curses thrown in between. She tended to have a rather filthy mouth when she was turned on. She hitched up her legs, squeezing his hips with her thighs.

She came with a loud cry, her body shuddering around him. He quickly followed her. After a few moments, allowing themselves to slightly catch their breath, he picked his head up and began to press gentle kisses on her neck and across her clavicle before kissing her slowly, almost lazily, on the mouth. She hooked her leg up over his hip, her ankle coming to rest on his arse, not wanting him to pull away from her. Her breasts were pressed into his chest as she kissed him back.

They broke the kiss, desperate for air. Their eyes met and she smiled at him. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and she giggled. The clock suddenly chimed, breaking through the silence that had surrounded them. It chimed twelve times. He smiled down at her.

"Happy Christmas, Molly."

"Mmm … Happy Christmas, Sherlock."

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**Yes, I put my own twist on the 'Night Before Christmas' poem ... heh ...**

**Do be sure to leave a review, I love them so much :D**


	4. Drugs

Drugs

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><p><em>Slap.<em>

_ Slap._

_ Slap._

_ "How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with! And how dare you betray the love of your friends! Say you're sorry!"_

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><p>Molly hadn't spoken to Sherlock since that dreadful day in the lab. She couldn't bring herself to go and visit him in hospital after he had been shot. When his face was plastered all over the papers, paired with the title of "Seven times in Baker Street" she shoved them away in disgust, not believing a single word (she knew better), but also feeling a pang in her heart. It wasn't until Magnussen's death was all over the news broadcast's that she felt the cold snake of fear curl up in her belly. And when the text came, telling her that Sherlock was being sent away, she knew what he had done. It was then, and only then that she allowed herself to at last break down and cry. Cry over everything that had been lost, what might have been.<p>

_Miss me?  
>Miss me?<br>Miss me?_

The all too familiar Irish voice floated through the hallways of the hospital. She stopped, frozen in place, as the face of Moriarty filled every screen in England. That cold snake of fear had now enveloped her entirely; it was a Boa Constrictor, clasping her, surrounding her completely, binding itself to her. She could not free herself from its tight grasp.

Struggling for air she fled from St. Bart's. She had no where to go. She had no where to hide. If Moriarty wanted her, he would find her. Sherlock may have twice saved the lives of those he loved, but she knew that he was far away now, far away from her; there was no one who could save her now.

And so she went home to her flat, huddling in the darkest corner of her bedroom. Toby mewled at her in confusion, not used to her being home at this hour, but pleased none the less to see her. She was blind though, to his presence. She was also blind to the fact that her mobile was repeatedly going off; text tones and phone calls.

It had begun to grow dark. She was still huddled, with her knees to her chest, her forehead resting upon the tops of her knees. Toby had left her alone once he realized she wouldn't be giving him her usual pets and feedings. All was quiet, all was still. Perhaps she had only dreamt of seeing Moriarty's face upon the television screen. Yes, perhaps it had all just been a bad dream.

She was about to begin moving, her back aching terribly, when a noise caused her to freeze. Someone was picking the lock to her front door. She had always cursed her impeccable hearing, but now at this very moment, she was rather glad for it. She lifted up her head, realizing that if it was in fact Moriarty he would not waste his time in dealing with picking locks. He would have had her door broken down, men rushing in, grabbing her and dragging her away. None of this had taken place.

No. There was only one person who would pick her lock; one person who had rather enjoyed the act, a bit too much really. But he was far away from here. Very far away. It could not possibly be him.

Ever so slowly she rose to her feet. She reached out and searched blindly for the cricket bat that had been her fathers. Clasping her fingers about it she held on to it tightly and slowly stepped out of her bedroom and down the hall. Toby danced about her feet, pleased to see that she was moving about. She moved closer to the door, still hearing the tell-tale signs of the lock being picked. Her heart was pounding, nearly drowning out all other sounds. But she stood her ground. Whoever was about to come through that door was going to end up with an extremely sore head.

She braced herself as the lock popped open, widening the distance between her feet to hold her stance. The doorknob began to turn. She took in one deep steadying breath just as the door was slowly pushed inward. As the lock-picker became revealed she felt her grip on the cricket bat loosen. It fell to the floor with a bang. Her heart momentarily stopped beating. Her mouth dropped open in shock and amazement. She stepped back as he stepped in, closing the door behind him.

"No."

This was the only word she managed to croak out before Sherlock had pulled her into a tight embrace, practically crushing her to him.

"No." She whimpered, "No, you can't be here! This can't be real!" She struggled to release herself from his grasp, at last managing to step away from him. She took a few more steps back, hugging her arms around her middle, instantly (and cursing herself for this) missing the loss of warmth from him.

"What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be gone; sent off on some pathetic deadly mission." She bitterly spat out her words.

Sherlock had stood there, silent, panting slightly. His arms had been held out in front of him from when she had stepped away, but had now dropped back to his sides.

"Molly … please …"

She shook her head, "No. You didn't even have the decency to say goodbye to me. I had to find out through a text from John! What the hell is the matter with you?" She had stormed towards him; her hand was now held high, pulled back, ready to slap him again.

This time was different though. His mind wasn't clouded with drugs; he could stop her now if he wanted to. And he did. He reached out, grabbing tightly onto her wrist before putting his other arm about her waist and pulling her close to him once more. But this time not just to hold her, to kiss her. She struggled yet again. His hand on her wrist slipped upwards until their hands were palm to palm and he could lace their fingers together.

"Let go of me!"

"No." He spoke this into her neck, where he had buried his face after breaking the kiss, breathing in the scent of her.

She stilled in his arms, her forehead coming to rest upon the lapel of his coat, he could feel the hot puffs of her breath even through his layers of clothing.

"Why are you here?"

Her voice sounded so small to him, so frightened, so unsure. He tightened his hold on her.

"Moriarty."

Sherlock felt her start to tremble. He carried her to the sofa, holding her as close to him as physically possible (well as close as their layers of clothes would allow). She still had her face buried in his chest.

"I won't let him hurt you Molly. He won't be able to get anywhere near you."

"How Sherlock? How can you be so certain of that?"

She at last lifted her head, her gaze locking on his. Her eyes were devoid of tears.

"You are coming to stay with me at Baker Street. Mycroft has upped all security levels. You will have full twenty-four surveillance. You will be driven to and from work, and there will be an armed guard near the morgue while you are there."

She let out shaky breath, allowing every single word that he had spoken to sink in. It was only then that she realized that his hand was still clasping hers, their fingers still laced together. And that she was sitting in his lap. Her eyes slowly rose back up to meet his.

"You're doing all of this, because of him?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed for a moment, then widened as he considered her confusion, "No. I'm doing it for me. For my own peace of mind."

It was her turn to narrow her eyes, "Peace of mind?" She questioned.

"Yes. Your safety is of utmost importance to me. Molly," He took her other hand in his, "I meant what I said to you that day, you are the one that mattered most. You do matter the most, to me." He had leaned forward slightly, his forehead coming to rest on hers.

She let out another shaky breath, closing her eyes, "How can I believe you? After all that you've done to me, how can I believe you?"

Sherlock's answer was silence. She opened her eyes and leaned back from him, "I helped you fake your death, willingly did so. I gave you the comfort you needed, welcoming you into my bed. I kept your secrets, for two whole years. I moved on, found someone that I thought would make me happy, but then you had to come back, had to screw it all up again. If I am so important to you, if I matter so much, why didn't you tell me before?" She moved to get up off of his lap, but he tugged her back down, his hands still clasping hers.

His gaze was locked on hers, "I was scared. You know how I am. I don't do sentiment, I don't do feelings. I was afraid I would crush you, destroy you, make you miserable. I know I'm not good enough for you, that you deserve so much better."

"Did you ever once consider that I didn't care about that?"

"Yes. Exactly the reason why I didn't pursue you. I had hoped that you would find someone better … but when I saw that you had settled for Tom," He spit out the name as if it left a sour taste in his mouth, "I realized that I had to do something, or I truly was risking losing you for forever."

She sighed, closing her eyes, "And now?"

"Now with Moriarty's return it has made me finally accept the fact that I want to be with you. That I need to be with you. Please, tell me that I still have a chance?"

Instead of giving a verbal answer she opted for a kiss. It was only then that he released her hands so that he could move his own on to her back, pressing her to him in order to deepen the kiss. She had his face cupped in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. When they at last parted for air she nuzzled his nose with her own. He began to leave feather-light kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

"Are we safe here?"

"Yes." He murmured between kisses, "Mycroft's men have the building surrounded."

"Then come on." She gave his hand a tug and she stood up, giving his hand another tug, "I need you, I haven't had you in so long."

He came to his feet and kissed her, walking her towards the direction of the bedroom. They began to remove each other's clothing as they grew closer to her bed. They collapsed upon it, now almost entirely naked. Sherlock's movements were slow, steady, calculated. So unlike the last time. Everything had been feverishly rushed, hardly any time given to enjoyment. He was too desperate for the release that he knew her body would grant him. But not this time.

He locked away in his Mind Palace every gasp and soft moan that escaped her lips as he touched her, kissed her, moved against her. She clung to him, digging her nails into his skin, kissing him deeply, rolling her hips against his.

It was almost unbearably slow, the movements that they were making with their bodies. But they needed it; they needed it to be slow. They needed to allow their minds to be only focused on each other and nothing else. There was too much that lay ahead that would distract them, endanger them; they needed this time to be together, alone.

He kissed her deeply, slowly, as they lay together, their legs entangled, both panting for breath. One of her legs was hooked around his hip, as if she was afraid that he would try and move away from her, that he would leave.

"I'm not going anywhere." He murmured against her lips.

She broke away from the kiss, hiding her face in his neck, "I'm still mad at you."

He slipped his arms over the small of her back, pulling her almost flush up against him, "You have every reason to be."

"You should not have done what you did to Janine. You went too far."

He sighed into her hair, "You know how I am Molly, focused on only the means to an end."

She lifted up her head and looked at him, "Most of the time that way of thinking is perfectly all right, but when it involves another person …" She shook her head, "You should not have done that to her."

He sighed again as he lifted up a hand to stroke her face, "I only regret doing it because it made you upset."

"Just me? 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!'"

Sherlock snorted in derision.

"I did warn you."

His only response was a grunt.

"I told you not to take it too far. And proposing to her was taking it too far!"

He threw his hands up, "Oh for God's sake! How else was I going to convince her to let me in to Magnussen's office?"

Molly didn't reply for a moment, "I don't know who the bigger idiot is."

Sherlock studied her, not entirely sure if she was still speaking about Janine.

Molly shook her head again, knowing that to try and reason with him would be futile, "And then you had to go and get yourself shot."

He grimaced slightly, "That was unavoidable. Mary did it because she thought it was the wisest thing to do. She was desperate to stop Magnussen."

Molly moved herself upwards slightly, pressing a kiss just below Sherlock's chin, "She didn't kill you."

"Mmm … no. I am grateful to her for that."

Molly moved her mouth up along his jaw line, nipping at his ear lobe, "I am grateful to her as well." She ran the tip of her nose along the shell of his ear.

"You didn't come and visit me in hospital."

She froze in her movements, "No. I-I didn't. I couldn't bring myself to; I was too upset and angry with you. I was afraid I would say something I would regret."

He moved his hand up her back, stopping when it came to her shoulder, massaging it slightly.

"It's all right. I don't blame you."

She sighed into his skin before picking her head up again and looking at him, "And Magnussen, what about all of that?"

"He needed to be stopped. He would have destroyed Mary, destroyed John."

"But by killing him he almost destroyed you."

Sherlock cradled the side of her face in his hand and kissed her, "He didn't."

"Thanks to Moriarty."

Sherlock let out an annoyed huff, "Yes. I'm not entirely sure if I am pleased by the fact that my exile was ended by his return."

"How did he return? How could he have returned? I did the autopsy on his body! I don't understand."

Molly held tightly onto Sherlock, never having been more frightened by that which she couldn't comprehend.

"I don't know. I don't like not knowing. But I'll figure it out."

"Yes … you always do, don't you?"

He chuckled as he kissed her again. She laid her head down on his chest, drawing lazy circles with her fingertip over his pectoral muscle.

"Why the drugs? And don't, DO NOT say they were for the case. That's absolute shite."

She felt him grow tense beneath her. She knew that she was overstepping boundaries by asking him, but she had to know. She wanted to hear it from his own lips. She steeled herself from the furious expression she was certain he would be aiming at her. Ever so slowly she turned her head until her chin was propped up on his chest. Then her eyes met his. There was no anger there, only hurt, sadness.

"Sherlock?"

She lifted herself up, moving upwards until her face was directly above his, "Please tell me."

He closed his eyes, "I was upset."

"Lonely."

His eyes flew open, meeting hers, "Lonely?" He all but scoffed.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You were. Don't deny it. John was married; he had been away on his honeymoon. And I, I was busy with Tom. You were lonely Sherlock."

He humphed, "Fine, I was lonely!"

"That's not a good enough excuse to start using again."

The furious expression was there now, she was shocked that he didn't shove her away from him. Within a few moments it faded away though, the hurt and the sadness returning.

"No. It isn't. But it was for me. John had reminded me why life was worth living, that it was good to be happy. That having a friend was an advantage, not a disadvantage. With him gone, I felt a massive loss."

"But he wasn't going to be gone for forever. He came back."

"Yes, but things are different now. He has a wife and a baby on the way. It will never be the same."

Molly sighed, dipping her head down until her forehead touched his, "I knew I should have followed you, that night at the wedding, when everyone was dancing. I saw you leave. I should have gone after you."

Sherlock shifted slightly, his hands coming to rest on her hips, "You didn't. You couldn't. You were there with … meat dagger."

She horrified herself by letting out a snort, "Mmm, yes."

Some minutes passed where neither one of them spoke.

"Things change Sherlock. People change. And there is nothing that you can do about it. The only thing that you can do is try and make the best of it."

His hands moved from her hips, up her back, to her shoulders before moving forward and cradling her face, "I know. I had to learn that the hard way. I understand that now. And this, this right here, what we are doing, this is me making the best of it."

She tried to fight back the tears, but a few managed to leak out passed her barriers. He brushed them away with his thumbs. She kissed him hungrily, deeply, trying her damndest to let him know how important _he_ was to her.


	5. Experiment

Experiment

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><p>John hadn't been in contact with Sherlock for several days, nearly a week in fact. This wasn't exactly a bad thing; it was just a bit … odd. Oh Hell, everything with Sherlock was odd! It wasn't normal … nope, that description didn't work either. Damn. It just didn't feel right. There, that was the best explanation he could come up with!<p>

Usually Sherlock was constantly berating him with texts to aid him with cases, more than once Sherlock had interrupted a rather intimate moment between him and Mary! That was more so his own fault though, he should have silenced his bloody mobile.

Clearing his throat he let himself into 221B and made his way up the stairs. A female's laughter brought him to a standstill; a very familiar female. Sherlock's deep rumbling laugh (a sound John did not hear often) closely followed the lighter lilt. And was that the sound of a kiss?

John shook his head, trying to clear his confused rambling thoughts. He considered turning back around and exiting the building, thinking that perhaps he was intruding upon something he did not want to see. But then he realized that Sherlock had probably heard him on the stairs and was almost certainly wondering why he hadn't come in yet. Or perhaps he wasn't … if he was as pre-occupied as it sounded.

Clearing his throat again he willed himself up the rest of the stairs and pushed open the door to the flat. The smell of something burning entered his nostrils.

"Uhh … Sherlock?" John called out cautiously.

"In the kitchen John!" Sherlock answered.

As John moved towards the kitchen he could hear Sherlock giving what sounded like instructions. What John walked in on was not entirely what he expected.

Sherlock was sat at his table, his microscope off to the side and two Bunsen burners lit with beakers bubbling above the flame. This wasn't what John found so shocking though (he was quite used to sights like this), no, it was the fact that Molly, Molly Hooper, was sat upon Sherlock's lap; wearing a pair of safety goggles and a pair of Sherlock's pyjamas. Sherlock was also in pyjamas and one of his dressing gowns.

John stood in the doorway of the kitchen his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Sherlock gave him a weary look, and then proceeded to turn down the flame on one of the Bunsen burners, his other arm crossing over Molly's abdomen to hold her more firmly. Molly looked at John with a wide smile upon her face.

"Hello John, popped by for a visit? Sorry I'm not more properly dressed, Sherlock insisted on starting on this experiment straight away."

John found himself clearing his throat again, blinking rapidly, "How –" His voice caught, "How long has this been going on? Are you two –" He coughed slightly, "Are you two shagging?"

Molly's cheeks flushed a deep, cherry red. Sherlock only rolled his eyes and slowly added a liquid to the beaker that he had just removed from the flame.

"Honestly John …" Sherlock drawled, "If you would just observe a bit more you would have known that Molly and I have been in a relationship for the past five months. We are not just 'shagging' we are _together_,and engaged."

John spluttered, "Five months? Engaged?" then he threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Yes. Isn't that what I just said?" Sherlock sounded annoyed.

Molly was tending to the other beaker and Sherlock was watching her closely. Out of all of the strange sights that John had been witness to throughout his life; this was by far the strangest. And yet, it wasn't really so strange at all. Yes, he was not good at observing, he more often than not simply saw what was there and didn't look any deeper. But truth be told he had always wondered, deep down, if there was something going on between Sherlock and Molly. He had always quickly dismissed this thought though, thinking that it was absolutely ridiculous. He knew how Molly felt about Sherlock, but he had never fully known how Sherlock had felt about Molly. Now it seemed to him that the feelings were mutual.

Instead of a look of shock, John now had a wide smile upon his face, "Well, if this doesn't beat all. I suppose congratulations are in order? Even if they are five months late?"

Molly blushed again, "Thanks John. Sorry you weren't told sooner, but Sherlock insisted. He wanted to see how long we could keep it from you. I told him that was cruel." She gave Sherlock a stern side-ways glance.

He shrugged, "Five months was about the length of time I had stated. I was considering going for six, but ahh well."

It was John's turn to roll his eyes, "Thanks Sherlock. Thanks a lot. Does anyone else know?"

Molly's blush grew deeper, "Uhm … yeah, everyone sort of does. You were the last to be told."

John threw his hands up again, "Everyone knows? Even Mary?"

Molly mutely nodded her head.

"How the hell did Sherlock convince you to go through with this?"

At the sight of Molly's ever-deepening blush John covered his face with his hands.

"Don't answer that. Don't tell me. I don't want to know." His voice ebbed out between his fingers.

She giggled slightly, "Sorry John."

He dropped his hands away, rubbing at his eyes before doing so, "It's all right, really. At least I know now. You better treat her right Sherlock, remember I was a soldier!" He pointed at Sherlock, giving him a firm glare.

Sherlock gave a derisive snort, but John could see by the look in his eyes that he had every intention of doing just that.

"I suppose I'll ahh … leave you two to your … experiment. Congratulations again … you both should come by for dinner sometime. Properly celebrate and all."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Properly celebrate? Molly and I have already properly celebrated! Several times in fa-!" His sentence got cut off by Molly clamping her hand over his mouth.

"We'd love to John, thank you!"

John nodded, then quickly scurried from the kitchen and back down the stairs, just as a delighted squeal from Molly reached his ears. He felt his cheeks blush crimson, the thought of Sherlock doing all of _that _… was a bit bizarre. Wonders would surely never cease! Perhaps Hell had at last froze over! As he hurried down Baker Street he pulled out his mobile and quickly dialed Mary's number.

"MARY WATSON HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME MY BEST FRIEND IS ENGAGED!"

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**Don't ask me why, I just decided to end it there :-P**


	6. Flow

**I was inspired to write this because of what I am currently going through and feeling (and also what I used to deal with when I was a bit younger).**

**So yeah, it just, sort of happened.**

**I am sure all of you here have had experience (hopefully not to this extent!) with what goes on in this story.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**And please leave reviews/comments if you like, I love them! :) **

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><p>Flow<p>

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><p>It hit her suddenly. A great wave of nausea. A painful ache in the lower pit of her belly. Molly inwardly cursed herself for having forgotten to check her calendar this morning. She had gotten so good at doing that, what had caused her to forget? She gripped the cold metal autopsy table with her gloved, slightly bloody hands, as another wave of nausea hit. In spite of the coolness of the lab she could feel perspiration forming on her forehead. It was no use, she had to get out of here; she had to go home. Once more she cursed herself for not having paid more attention to her bodily schedule.<p>

With a few deep breaths she brought herself back to her full height and ripped off her gloves. Now to go and tell Mike Stamford. She inwardly cringed. Sometimes she really did not enjoy the fact that her boss wasn't a female. She had already had a red-face inducing conversation with him before. Now it seemed that it would have to happen again. How she hated her body and its womanly functions, sometimes!

She struggled out of the morgue, one hand placed upon her abdomen, as she made her way towards his office. The hallway was empty, she was thankful for this, knowing that the paleness of her face would make anyone, even a stranger stop and ask her if she was all right. Another deep breath, here goes.

Knock. Knock.

"Come in!"

She opened the door and stepped inside. Mike looked up, his mouth dropping open at the sight of her. He jumped to his feet and rushed over to her.

"Molly! Are you all right?"

She shook her head, hoping that she would be able to speak without the nausea rising to her throat.

"Mike … remember … (deep breath) … remember several months ago when I had spoken to you about why I would be missing work, for several days each month?"

She watched as his ears turned a faint shade of pink.

"Errr… uhm yes."

"I – I'm terribly sorry, I had told you that I would be able to give you fair warning before hand, but (another deep breath) I need to go home, NOW."

His eyes widened, "Absolutely! Don't worry about it, I'll be able to have someone come in, and I'll take over until they do. Don't worry at all. Would you like me to call you a cab? You look as if you can barely stand."

She simply nodded, swaying slightly, "Can I, can I go out the back? I really don't want to attract attention."

Mike gave his own nod, "Yes of course. Here let me call for the cab, why don't you have a seat?"

She fell into the offered chair, her hand still on her stomach, resting her forehead onto her other hand. She focused on breathing in and out, in and out.

"How about I get your things, they are in locker 22 right?"

She nodded again, not sure if speaking would be wise.

"I'll be right back."

She covered her face with her hands directly after he left. How embarrassing all of this was! And he couldn't possibly be any kinder about it. God bless the man for having sisters! Another wave of nausea hit her, much stronger than the ones before. She needed to get home, before it really consumed her.

Focusing her mind on her breathing, she didn't hear the office door open, or notice the sound of rustling fabric as someone lowered themselves in front of her. It wasn't until the faint smell of cigarettes and a slightly spicy scent hit her nostrils that she realized she wasn't alone.

Dropping her hands away from her face her eyes met two blue-green ones. They were filled with concern. It wasn't every day that the eyes of Sherlock Holmes looked concerned about anything or anyone.

"Why didn't you know not to come to work today?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes, "My mind was pre-occupied. Mostly by you! Which in fact means that I could actually blame all of this on you."

His eyes narrowed, "Very funny. I would have said something to you before I left, but I thought you kept close attention to all of that." He waved his hand as he spoke the word "that."

"I do. This is the first time that I've not paid attention to it. And oh God, I feel worse than ever!" She leaned forward pressing her hands over her face once more.

"The cab Mike called for should be here any minute; I brought you your things. Do you think you can walk, or do you need me to carry you?"

She lifted up her head and glared at him, "I am not letting you carry me out of here!"

He raised his hands in mock-surrender, "I merely asked!"

She struggled to her feet; he had to grab her elbow to steady her. After helping her on with her coat the pair of them walked out of the office and towards the back entrance. He put his arm around her, holding her close to him, his own large hand coming to rest upon her abdomen. They stepped outside, and waited. She closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body beside her and his hand on her stomach.

The cab arrived. He helped her inside and slipped in next to her. He gave the driver the address to her flat. She curled into Sherlock, pulling her knees to her chest. He put his arm back around her, before placing a kiss on her forehead. Ten minutes later they arrived outside her building. Now the real struggle was about to begin. The three flights of stairs. The elevator had been out of order for many, many months.

"If you'd let me, I could just carry you up."

"No."

Molly began taking each step slowly, gradually increasing her speed. Sherlock stayed behind her, ready to catch her if she became unsteady once again. They at last made it to her door. Just as a massive wave of nausea hit her. This was it. Sherlock flung the door open and she rushed inside towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and began to empty her stomach of all its contents. Her stomach heaved, causing the pain in her lower belly to increase. Tears were running down her cheeks, just like they always did. Suddenly she felt a pair of hands brush her hair back, placing it in a hair band. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Don't come in here!"

She heard him chuckle slightly, "That statement is rather null since I am already in here, and even when you tell me not to, I never listen."

He sat down next to her, his hand rubbing circles on her. She sat back on her haunches, not entirely certain if her stomach was finished with her yet.

"Here."

He handed her a damp towel. She wiped at her mouth, then her face, before passing it over the back of her neck. She let out a frustrated sigh.  
>"I hate this. Sometimes I really just want my ovaries removed in entirety."<p>

It was a stupid thing for her to say. Especially in front of the man who was sitting before her. As well as the fact that because of her medical knowledge she knew that what she was saying was foolish. But pain like this often caused her to speak silly things. It was times like these though that made her love the very man who was sitting beside her even more.

"You don't mean that. You wouldn't be able to have children, which I know you very much want." He kissed her forehead, "And so do I. Eventually."

They hadn't exactly ever broached that subject. And this was most certainly not the appropriate time. The nausea had abated, for now at least, but her cramps were beginning. She slowly rose to her knees.

"Better?"

"Yeah, I think so."

He helped her to her feet.

"Get into bed; I'll make you some tea."

He left the bathroom and she quickly brushed her teeth; hating the taste of sick in her mouth. She removed all of her clothing, except for her knickers and took care of the necessary requirements of her body, before stepping into her bedroom and slipping under the sheet. She lay down on her stomach, hiding her face in her pillow. No one would ever believe her if she told them how excellent a carer Sherlock could be.

The cramps were increasing in intensity. She let out a moan just as he walked back into the bedroom. She felt the bed dip as he sat down on the mattress beside her. Rolling over on to her back, she sat up and took the offered tea and two pills from him. After a few sips of tea she let out a satisfied sigh.

"I heated this up for you as well."

He showed her the hot compress before placing it on her stomach. She reached out and grabbed at his shirt, pulling him towards her so that she could kiss him. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, noting the minty taste of her toothpaste.

"Thank you. Not many girls' boyfriends would do so much for them."

He humphed, "Then they are idiots!"

"Most men are disgusted by it, or just horrified, wanting nothing to do with it."

He humphed again, "Idiots. It is a perfectly normal body function. There is nothing disgusting about it."

She smiled and leaned back into her pillow, continuing to sip at her tea.

"Want me to stay?"

"Yes! Why would you think that I wouldn't?"

He shrugged, "Didn't know if perhaps you wanted to sleep."

"I sleep better when I'm with you."

He smiled and kicked off his shoes before getting up and walking around to the other side of the bed. He slipped under the sheet and pressed his body up against the side of hers. She sighed happily, continuing to sip her tea.

"I told Mike you wouldn't be coming in tomorrow, or the day after."

"Three days? Really, Sherlock? I'm only like this on the first day, I'll be fine tomorrow."

He shook his head, "You don't know that. Remember last month?"

She exhaled loudly, remembering all too well how she had repeatedly thrown up for two days straight.

"That was unusual. And it only happened that one time."

He started to kiss her shoulder, "It is best to take the necessary precautions."

She finished her tea and placed the empty cup on her nightstand. She moved down until she was on her back, repositioning the hot compress on her stomach. Sherlock gently placed his hand over it. She turned her head, nuzzling her nose into his neck.

"I'm going to repay you for your kindness when this is all over."

He kissed her.

"You always do."


	7. Grave

**Happy Halloween!**

**Some angsty, comfort smutty Halloween goodness for you!**

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><p>Grave<p>

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><p>Molly stood at the grave of Sherlock Holmes, a sheet of paper clutched tightly in her hand. It had arrived in her mail earlier that afternoon. It wasn't written by hand, but typed, thus making it impossible for anyone but her to know who had sent it.<p>

A cold rush of wind blew across the graveyard, sending fallen leaves flying wildly about her. She brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, still holding firmly onto the sheet of paper. She sniffled, scrunching her nose up slightly. Then at last she looked down at the paper in her hand. It was time for her to read it.

With a shaky sigh she began, softly, slowly to speak it out loud:

_Do not stand at my grave and weep__  
><em>_I am not there. I do not sleep.__  
><em>_I am a thousand winds that blow.__  
><em>_I am the diamond glints on snow.__  
><em>_I am the sunlight on ripened grain.__  
><em>_I am the gentle autumn rain.__  
><em>_When you awaken in the morning's hush__  
><em>_I am the swift uplifting rush__  
><em>_Of quiet birds in circled flight.__  
><em>_I am the soft stars that shine at night.__  
><em>_Do not stand at my grave and cry;__  
><em>_I am not there. I did not die._

By the time she came to the end her tears were flowing freely. She wiped them away hurriedly, stuffing the paper into her coat pocket. With a final glance at his grave, she spun about and began to walk off. A dark figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to look fully, hoping that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. She looked at him, he looked at her. The wind picked up again, swirling around them both. They shared a nod, before she turned away from him and continued out of the graveyard and back towards her flat. By the time she arrived home he is there sitting on her sofa.

"Very subtle, this." She pulled out the paper from her pocket and held it up.

He gave her a shrug, "You know my methods."

She quickly took off her coat and scarf, hanging it up beside his before turning back around to face him. He is still sitting on her sofa.

"How long?" She asked him.

"Only tonight. Mycroft needed me in London, surprisingly reckless for him." He replied.

Molly moved closer and he watched her. Before another word could be spoken by either she is curled up against him, his arms around her. He doesn't inquire how hard it has been, knowing all too well that he has asked too much of her. Like always. Instead they stayed like this, quietly in each others arms. Seeking the comfort that neither knew when they would find the chance to have again.

After a time she shifted so that she could bring her mouth up to his. Their kiss was hungry, desperate. She clung to him as if he was her life source. They usually make it to the bed, but not this time.

Their movements are fumbled, awkward. They don't want their lips to part, but they must in order to breathe and remove the barriers of clothing. When they are both at last entirely naked he eased her down onto her back. Her hands moving over him, taking note of the new scars and bruises that he has acquired. She doesn't ask questions.

They both cried out as their bodies become joined. It had been nearly a year for the pair of them. He kisses her deeply, holding her as close to him as possible as he thrusts into her, again and again. Filing away the sensation of her warmth, her tightness, how wet she is for him. He'll need these memories, not knowing how long it will be again before he can experience them for real.

She kissed him, moaning into his mouth as she rolled her hips in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. He panted her name into her skin, as she does with his. She wrapped her legs around his hips, allowing him to enter her more deeply. Their moans grow in volume as he thrusts into her harder. She becomes undone around him, her entire body shaking. He is not far behind.

They hold tightly onto each other, both of them breathing heavily. Her gaze is strong, direct. She too is filing away memories. They kiss again, and again. His hands start to wander, brushing against her breasts, across her abdomen, over the curve of her arse. His mouth soon starts to follow. She lies back against the cushions, as he bites her, suckles her, before ringing from her cries of pleasure.

Just as the sun is setting they make love again, but this time she is on top. His hands are holding onto her arse, his fingertips digging into her skin as his eyes are mesmerized by the movements of her breasts as she rode him. He brushed his thumb across her swollen nub and she cried out, with a final buck of his hips he emptied himself inside of her.

They curl around each other, both entirely too tired to bother moving to the bed, even though it would be more comfortable. Sleep is forcing its away upon her, but she tries her hardest to fight it. She knows that when she wakes, he would be gone. He is kissing her face, murmuring softly to her, words that she can't quite make out. Her eyes have grown too heavy; she can no longer keep it at bay. Placing one final kiss upon her forehead he moved his lips downwards to hover over hers. He whispered softly to her, before giving her a gentle kiss, "Remember Molly, _I did not die._"

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><p>.<p>

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**The poem is one of my favourites and is by Mary Elizabeth Frye.**

**Please leave a review, I love them :)**

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN!**


	8. Home

Home

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><p>They were lying in bed together, slowly coming down from the high that their joined bodies had made. Sherlock was still hovering over her, his chest brushing up against hers as he dipped his head down to leave yet another love-bite upon her skin. His muscles flexed beneath her hands as she moved them up his back, to his shoulders before dragging her nails gently across his neck.<p>

Suddenly his low baritone broke through the silence that had fallen, "Wherever you are is my home, my only home." He whispered to her.

Molly's hands froze just as they reached Sherlock's curls, "Did you just quote _Jane Eyre_ to me?" She questioned, wondering if she needed to get her hearing checked.

He momentarily paused, but then continued kissing the side of her neck, "Mmm … possibly." He murmured into her skin.

"Nicking my novels again?" She returned to massaging his scalp with her fingertips.

"I was bored." His mouth was still on her neck.

"Let me guess, you read it entirely in one sitting?" She was well aware of his ability to read uncommonly fast.

"Yes." His lips were moving upwards now, along her jaw line, before coming to her mouth to claim a kiss.

"Did you enjoy it?"

He brushed back some of her hair from her face before replying, "It was a bit trivial."

"Trivial? Well, I beg to differ, that is one of my favourite books." Her hands dropped down to the mattress.

"I know. That's why I read it." He pressed another kiss to her mouth.

She brought her hands back up to rest on his shoulders, "What made you choose that particular line?" She questioned when he pulled away.

He kissed her again, this time longer, deeper, cradling the side of her face in his hand, "The fact that it's true." He spoke this softly against her lips.

"Is it?" She had moved her hands again and her thumbs were now caressing his cheekbones. Her eyes were locked on his.

"Yes, Molly Hooper, you are my home."

She smiled, before pulling him down to her for another kiss.

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><p>.<p>

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**:)**

**Reviews are a wonderful thing!**


	9. I'm Sorry

I'm Sorry

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><p>Molly was in the morgue. The slabs were empty. Not a body bag in sight. She was sitting upon a stool, staring blankly ahead. Her bottom lip was being worried between her teeth. She was currently alone, but she knew that that wouldn't be for long. She had received a text; a warning.<p>

He's on his way to talk to you. I think you know what about. – MM

Mary Morstan. She and Molly had conveniently become very good friends. Molly liked her, a lot. And she was glad that John had found someone. It had hurt her to the core to see him so lonely.

John.

John Watson.

The man who was coming to talk to her. And yes, she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. She bit down so hard on her lip that she tasted blood. She sucked on it, welcoming the metallic taste.

Molly had known that this day would come, deep down inside she always knew. But what she didn't know was what he would say to her. How he would act. Would he be angry? Upset that she knew all along that Sherlock was still alive and didn't tell him?

The sound of the morgue doors opening brought her back to the present. She slipped off the stool, steadying herself on her feet as John approached her. It was strange to see him here alone, without Sherlock. He had never once come to visit her after … it would have been too hard, too many memories.

Molly opened her mouth to speak but John silenced her with a look. His hands were twitching; he paced for a moment before stopping directly before her. Their eyes met.

"You knew." He paused, calming himself, "You knew he was alive. All this time."

She couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"You helped him with … with all of … that." He waved his hand off to the side. She could see that he was struggling to keep his composure.

"I'm sorry John." Her voice came out no more than a whisper, "I'm so sorry."

He nodded, looking away from her, his jaw tightening, "That must have, must have been very hard … for you."

"It was."

"How did you do it? I don't think I could have."

Her eyes filled with tears, "How could I not? You know how I feel about him. It's so horribly obvious. I couldn't say no. It wasn't easy. I knew it wouldn't be easy. And as time wore on, it grew harder, lying to you, to Greg, to Mrs. Hudson. Didn't you ever wonder why I stopped coming to see you as often as I once had? I couldn't bear it, to see the grief he had caused you, and that I had the power to bring it to an end! I didn't trust myself."

John closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing, "He asked too much of you. Like he always does."

Molly had no answer for that. John clenched his fists then opened them, stretching out his fingers. He appeared to struggle to get out his next words.

"Thank you," He paused, "Thank you for keeping him alive." He gave a slight nod, tapped his fingers on the metal slab and then turned and walked out of the morgue.

Molly slowly let out a breath; a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in for two years. She closed her eyes, swaying slightly on her feet as she struggled to calm herself down. First one, then two tears slipped out from beneath her eyelids. She jumped when she felt a pad of a fingertip brush the tears away. Her eyes flew open meeting two blue/green ones.

"How long have you been in here?" Her own voice sounded so small.

"Long enough."

He stayed there, standing before her, his hands having dropped back down to his sides. He was studying her, deducing her like always, but silently.

"Did I ask too much of you?"

She closed her eyes again for a moment before opening them, "Sherlock, we've been over this already. I wanted to help you. I knew it would be difficult. I was entirely aware of how illegal and dangerous it was all going to be, and still I did it. I don't regret it. Not at all." She took a step closer to him and tilted her head back so that she could look directly up at him, "If I was given the chance, I would do it all over again. Yes, it was hard seeing everyone be so upset, but I knew deep down that their sadness wouldn't last forever; that you would come back. It was painful, and there were days when I hated myself, questioned as to why I had done it. Why I had agreed to help you. But those days passed, and for the most part I was proud of what I had done. I was happy to know that you were out there, saving the world. You didn't ask too much of me."

He closed the space between them, the tips of his shoes touching hers. He pressed his lips to her forehead, murmuring so softly that she almost didn't hear the words, "I'm sorry."

Her eyes had fallen closed and when she opened them again, he was gone.

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><p>.<p>

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**errr ... sorry for the feels?**

**It just kind of hit me that this would be a good one to write :-/**

**I really wish that they had given us a scene of this, it would be very interesting to see how John would have handled it.**

**Reviews make me happy :)**


	10. Jumper

Jumper

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><p>Molly hated packing. She positively abhorred it. She never could decide on what to take and what not to take; thus resulting in her usually bringing along her entire wardrobe. Which really wasn't much, but it was still bordering on the ridiculous.<p>

She refused to allow herself to do that this time though. She was only going away for three days, and it was only to Edinburgh for a medical conference. She had already decided on her three best pairs of trousers, now she just needed to pick her tops and jumpers. Whilst she was perusing through her clothes she suddenly found herself doing a double take. Her cherry jumper (her favourite!) was missing.

After spending fifteen minutes checking over her entire flat and not finding it she played back in her mind to the last time she had worn it. Upon further enquiry she discovered that it had been two days ago. She had not taken it off while she was at work, the morgue being far too cold to do so. She was positive that she had not removed it until she had come home that evening. Come home to her flat to find a certain curly haired Consulting Detective sprawled across her sofa. He had joined her in eating take away and had ended up staying the night.

Quickly dismissing these thoughts from her brain she continued to try and envision where she had last seen it. To no avail though, the memory would not come. With a defeated sigh she returned to her packing, hoping that perhaps it would show up when she wasn't looking for it.

By the time the day arrived for her to leave for Edinburgh her jumper had still not been found. This rather upset Molly, but she refused to allow it to her ruin her weekend away. She was determined to do a full-on search when she returned.

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><p>Come to Baker Street when you're back in London. – SH<p>

You sure? My train comes in late. – Mx

Yes. I don't mind. – SH

Won't you be asleep? – Mx

Most likely. Just finished a case, an 8. – SH

Please come. – SH

Is that a promise? ;) – Mx

Molly! – SH

Sorry, couldn't resist. – Mx

What did I tell you about not making jokes? – SH

I know, I'm awful at them :-P – Mx

The offer still stands. – SH

All right! I'll go straight from the train station. – Mx

See you then. – SH

Yes. :-* - Mx

What is that supposed to be? – SH

A kiss! – Mx

Interesting. – SH

Really wish you would stop typing those ridiculous emotions. – SH

:-P – Mx

They're called emoji's FYI. – Mx

Irrelevant. - SH

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><p>Molly slowly climbed the stairs up to Sherlock's flat. It was late, nearly two in the morning, and she knew that Sherlock would be in his bed asleep. But not just asleep, no, he would be positively dead to the world. She didn't really mind though, she was rather tired herself. She entered the flat. All was dark and quiet. Quickly removing her coat and scarf, she kicked off her shoes and padded softly towards the bedroom.<p>

She could just make out the tuft of dark curls peeking out above the duvet. She stripped down to her skin and walked over to the bed, lifting up the blanket before sliding underneath towards Sherlock's warmth. A happy sigh escaped her as she pressed herself up against him. He was on his stomach, facing her. Suddenly his arm slipped out from where it had been underneath the pillow and draped over her side before pulling her closer up against him.

A soft chuckle escaped her throat. She was surprised that he had woken up. He hadn't opened his eyes though. Instead he shifted his head closer to her and nuzzled her neck with his nose. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, slipping her own hand over his back, loving the feeling of the warmth of his skin.

Suddenly her hand brushed against something that did not feel like skin, nor like the sheet. She grasped it with her fingers and pulled it towards her. Sherlock jerked slightly, his eyes flying open; he had been lying on top of the item that Molly was now holding up.

"Ahh…"

She gave him a quizzical look, "_You've_ had my cherry jumper? I thought I had accidentally thrown it out or something, I was going mad trying to find it! And here you've had it all this time. Why do you have my cherry jumper?"

His eyes flitted downwards to the sheet, "Well … ahh…"

"You didn't have to nick it from my flat, you could have just asked."

His gaze met hers, she was smiling at him.

"So much for chemical defect. Honestly Sherlock … it was _just_ three days! Didn't think you'd miss me so much that you'd resort to stealing my clothes."

He dropped his eyes back down to the sheet, "It's what you're always wearing in my Mind Palace. The jumper and your lab coat."

Her hand that was holding the jumper dropped down to the bed, "Oh? Just my jumper and my lab coat? Anything else?"

Without warning she was lying flat on her back, and he was hovering over her, smiling, "Sometimes you're not wearing anything at all." He took the jumper from her grip and tossed it to the floor, "Rather like right now." He dipped his entire body downwards, so that they were skin to skin, before pressing his mouth to hers.

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><p>.<p>

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**Hehe, gotta love these two! **

**Be sure to leave a review! I love them so! :D**


	11. Khan

Khan

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><p>Molly and Sherlock were curled up together in the bath. Sherlock had just turned on the hot water with his toes, to warm them. They had started to grow cool and neither one of them were ready to get out yet.<p>

He was sat in between Molly's legs, his back to her. Turning the water off, he leaned up against her. He could feel her breasts pressing up against his skin. Sighing he laid the back of his head on her shoulder. She smiled, pressing a kiss in to the side of his neck. He let out another sigh, a happy one, and closed his eyes. She began to run her fingers through his damp curls, massaging his scalp. He tried his hardest to suppress it, but a moan leaked out between his lips. He could feel her smile as she pressed another kiss into his skin.

Suddenly she dipped her fingers into the water before bringing them back up to his hair. He didn't think much of it at first until he realized that she was repeating the same motion, over and over.

"Molly … what is it that you are exactly doing?"

She chuckled softly before replying, "I'm making you look like Khan."

He turned his head towards her, "Who?"

Molly continued to smooth back his hair, "Khan. He was in that Star Trek film we watched the other night. Well, I watched, you ignored."

Sherlock gave a dismissive sniff, "Your heart rate when up every time he came on to the screen."

Her hand stilled, "I thought you weren't paying attention to the movie."

"I wasn't." He all but snapped, "But to you I was." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, "I look nothing like him."

Molly bit down on her lip as she realized that Sherlock was in fact pouting.

"Mmmm … I beg to differ. You are both exceedingly handsome. And with your hair like this," She smoothed it back with her hand once more, an errant curl refusing to cooperate, "You do resemble him a bit."

He huffed, "I'm not genetically engineered."

"Mmm … no, but you both think that you're better at everything."

He glared at her from the corner of his eye, but Molly chose to ignore this and continued.

"I wonder if I could find you something that resembles the outfit he wears. We both already know you look good in black."

He couldn't stop the smirk that came to his face.

"Khan is a bit more muscular than you though …"

The pout returned.

"I rather like your slim figure," She ran her hands up his arms, "You are … very strong."

His pout lessened ever so slightly.

"Your voices sound rather similar too. You both have the same deep baritone. Although his has a bit more ferocity to it. I've read some rather sexy stories with him."

"Fan fiction." Sherlock sneered.

She gave the side of his head a little swat, "Have you been stealing my tablet again? Bastard." A smirk then appeared on her face, "I wonder what sort of lover he would be … in the stories he's always a bit rough … but I bet he has the ability to be gentle too. Although … a bit of rough sometimes isn't a bad thing…" Her hands were still moving up and down Sherlock's arms, "And they always write that he has a big co—" Her words were cut off as Sherlock suddenly twisted himself about so that he was facing her. The look in his eyes was fierce.

"Enough, Doctor Hooper."

She fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. He had managed to adopt the exact tone of Khan's voice. In spite of the warmth of the water she felt her nipples begin to pebble and a rush of heat between her legs. Sherlock had placed a hand on either side of her, pressing them in to the walls of the tub. He leaned closer towards her. She swallowed, suddenly feeling the need to breathe more deeply.

"You are my prisoner. You have no choice but to do what I bid of you. I am going to take you, and mark you as mine. I'm going to ravage your body with my lips, my tongue, my cock. And you are going to enjoy every minute of it."

Her lips were parted now, her chest heaving. All legible thoughts fled from her mind as he leaned further forward, his lips just barely touching hers.

"Now, Doctor Hooper, shall we begin?"

_Didn't pay attention my arse! _

Molly let out a loud shriek as he suddenly scooped her up in his arms and stepped out of the tub, carrying her towards the bedroom.

"Sherlock!" She cried out, "We're both completely soaked!"

He tossed her upon the bed and quickly covered her body with his own, "That is not my name!" He snarled, "Say my name. Say it!"

She gasped as he pressed his erection directly between her legs, teasing her with just the tip.

"Khan!" She panted out, "Your name is Khan! OH!"

He entered her in one swift thrust, not even bothering to take the time to make sure that she was ready for him. He knew her too well for that; she was always ready for him. He buried himself inside of her to the hilt, groaning as her delicious heat surrounded him.

She hooked her legs around him, hugging his body close to hers as he filled her with his entire length every time that he thrust into her, their hips smacking. He grabbed her hands, bringing them up to the headboard.

"Hold on." He demanded.

She grasped the headboard tightly with her fingers. She was stretched out beneath him now, her breasts on perfect display for him. He dipped his head down taking a pebbled nipple in his mouth and biting down on it.

"OH!" She cried out, before moaning as he lavished the now sore nipple with his tongue.

He moved his mouth to her other breast, repeating the action, panting into her skin as he continued to powerfully thrust into her.

"Khan! Khan!" She chanted.

Suddenly he reached behind him and grabbed onto her legs, pushing them down onto the mattress so that he could pull himself out of her. She made a loud noise of disappointment, her hold weakening on the headboard. He was sitting back on his haunches. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

"Get on your knees. Face the headboard." He ordered.

Her eyes widened slightly, he had stolen her tablet! She quickly complied, doing exactly as he asked. She dropped her head to the mattress, pushing her arse up so that she was on full display to him. She was aching to be filled by him once more, and was positive that she was growing wetter by the second; he had never taken her like this before.

"Oh God!" She gasped out, as he took a hold of her arse cheeks and thrust himself inside of her once more.

"That's. Not. My. Name!" He growled, emphasizing each word with a particularly hard thrust.

She mewled loudly; amazed at the places he rubbed against inside of her from this angle, "KHAN!" She cried out, "Oh Khan!"

The head of his cock was pressing directly into her g-spot. He had done so before, but never quite like this. She was not going to last for very long.

"Don't come yet, Doctor Hooper. Do not come until I tell you."

She whimpered as he continued to thrust into her mercilessly, holding tightly onto the bed sheets, her fingers practically digging into the mattress. He slipped an arm underneath her, across her abdomen, pulling her close up against him, changing the angle yet again. They were both moaning uncontrollably now, his hips smacking into her arse cheeks over and over.

"Shall I make you come Doctor Hooper? Is that what you want?"

With his one arm holding her tightly to him, he released her arse cheek with his other hand and slipped it down to her front, ghosting his thumb directly over her clit.

"Please. Oh please!"

He brushed his thumb over her clit again, ever so lightly.

"Please, what?"

"Please Khan! PLEASE! Make me come! I need to come!"

He pressed his thumb down onto her clit, giving another hard,deep thrust. She cried out, throwing her heard back as her orgasm washed over her. He held himself inside of her, allowing her to bask in the moment before continuing to thrust, digging his fingertips into her hips, desperate for his own release. He came with a wild cry, holding their bodies pressed tightly together as he emptied himself into her.

Ever so slowly he lowered her down onto the bed, slipping himself out, and spooning her, both of them panting heavily.

"Well … fuck …" Molly stated drowsily.

He hummed in agreement.

"I think we may need to watch that movie again tonight."

Sherlock chuckled, twisting her about so that she was facing him. They kissed and she sighed happily into his mouth.

"Steal my tablet any time you want!" She told him, before kissing him again.

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	12. Late

Late

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><p>"Well fuck!" Molly had never been one to vocally curse, not much at least; it was something she usually spoke inside her head. But now was the perfect moment to say these words out loud, "Fuckity, fucking, fuck!"<p>

She had never been one to miss a period, so when she was late and then it didn't come at all, she grew slightly worried. She knew that sometimes this happened; as you grow older your body can change. But there was a niggling thought in the back of her mind that wouldn't shut off. And so, she made a trip to Boot's.

Now here she was, standing in the bathroom of the flat of 221B, with two pale pink lines staring up at her. It was always possible that it could be wrong; a faulty pregnancy test. But when all six turned pink, it was hard to leave room for doubt. With a sigh she swept the tests into the garbage bin. No use trying to hide them. Sherlock would notice, deduce it easily. If he hadn't already. Narrowing her eyes she thought for a moment then her lips formed into a thin straight line. She flung the bathroom door open and stalked out. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, eyes closed, fingers steepled. Molly was positively fuming.

"You bloody bastard!"

His eyes flew open and met hers. He was used to her throwing insults at him. She often did when he was being particularly … what had she called it? … Sherlockian, but he was also well aware that he had not done anything (recently) that would have angered her. He had in fact been on rather good behavior.

"You did this on purpose!" She motioned with her hand towards her stomach.

_Oh._

He dropped his hands to the armrests, "Ahh yes, taken a pregnancy test have you?"

She pulled her hand back to slap him. Something she hadn't done since that awful day in the lab. He caught her wrist before her hand could reach his cheek. He tugged her down so that she fell into his lap. She struggled to get out of his grasp, but he cradled her in his arms, holding on to her firmly but gently. After a few more moments she relaxed, accepting defeat.

"I didn't run out of pills, did I? You chucked them, didn't you? And your absolute insistence with never using a condom …" She trailed off, the anger ebbing from her voice.

Both were true, especially the bit about the condoms. He preferred to feel her around him, in entirety. He reached up, tucking his hand under her chin.

"Molly … look at me."

She lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Is this … not good?" He dropped his hand from her chin, letting it rest on her stomach.

A beat passed before she placed her hand on top of his.

"Usually when two people are in a relationship, and they want a baby, they discuss it first. Then … act on it. Not dispose of their wife's birth control pills before dragging her into bed."

"As I so pleasantly recall, you didn't very much resist."

"Sherlock."

His mouth snapped shut.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted a baby? I would have stopped taking the pills."

His eyes dropped from hers, "You know how I am Molly … with these sorts of things."

She chuckled before leaning forward and placing a kiss upon the spot just below his ear, "So you decided to get me pregnant without my knowing? Such a romantic. And I thought you were just desperate for me. I wish I had known, we could have taken it a bit slower. It would have been nice to have been able to revel in the thought that we were creating a child together." She pulled back, looking at him.

His gaze finally returned to hers, "I thought you liked it when I took you like that."

She gave him a saucy grin, "I do. It's rather … nice. But I really wish you would have told me, Sherlock."

He kissed her, "I will. Next time."

She leaned back from him, "Next time? Are we going to have more than one?"

He smiled, "Yes. Hasn't it always been three that you've wanted?" He kissed her again.

She chuckled into his mouth as she kissed him back, "We're going to have a baby." She whispered against his lips.

He tipped his head back, their eyes meeting, "Are you happy?"

She nuzzled his nose with hers, "Yes."

He kissed her again, "Good."

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><p><strong>Reviews make me smile! :)<strong>

**on tumblr? my personal one is thesecitystreets and my fanfic one is sherlockian87**


	13. Mind Palace

Mind Palace

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><p>Molly had entered the flat of 221B, her hands grasping bags from Tesco. If Sherlock insisted on her staying the night all the time then he was going to have to have some actual edible food around! She found him stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed and fingers steepled; he was in full Mind Palace mode.<p>

Shaking her head she proceeded into the kitchen and put away the food she had bought, making certain that the body parts were kept well away in their own corner (shelf) in the fridge. Once finished she went and sat her self down in John's chair, wondering how long Sherlock would be locked away from her. She watched him for a few moments before picking up her novel and snuggling down into the cushions.

Minutes passes as she read, the only sounds were the faint ones coming from outside, down below. If she didn't know him better, she could have sworn that Sherlock was asleep. Suddenly the sound of his voice pulled her from the depths of her book. Her eyes flitted up, landing on him. He hadn't moved and his eyes were still closed. But he was talking.

"Of course Molly, the signs are all there! Look at the state of his nails! Even the ridges of his knuckles are caked with it."

She raised her eyebrows in wonder. He wasn't talking to her, but to his Mind Palace version of her. She existed in his Mind Palace? She had never known this, never once actually considered it.

Sherlock continued to have the one-sided conversation, making her wish that she could hear what the Mind Palace version of herself was saying to him. With a sudden satisfied exhalation of air he opened his eyes and sat up.

"Solved it!" He announced gleefully to her.

"Did you now?"

He jumped to his feet, a flurry of dressing gown and pyjama bottoms. Had the man never bothered to get properly dressed? She set down her novel and watched him walk into the kitchen. He noted that she had gone shopping. Of course he went straight for the package of chocolate biscuits.

"Those are for after dinner Sherlock!"

She swore she could hear him grumbling. He returned empty-handed and threw himself back down on the sofa; sporting a full-blown pout. She struggled to suppress a smile. Ridiculous man-child!

"Sherlock … were you just having a conversation with me, in your Mind Palace?"

His eyes snapped onto hers, "I was talking out loud?"

She no longer withered beneath his gaze, "Yeah, you do that sometimes. This was a first though, never heard you talking to me before. Usually you're arguing with John."

He let out a loud sniff, his eyes moving to gaze at the ceiling.

"What was I wearing?"

His eyes moved back to hers before he started to mumble. She was positive she heard the words 'lab coat.'

"I'm wearing my lab coat am I? Anything else, or just that?" She couldn't help but smile slightly, teasingly.

"Your cherry jumper."

Her smile grew wider, "I thought you said that it was ridiculous?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, "It is, for anyone but you."

She got up from the chair then and walked over to him, "Am I often in your Mind Palace?"

He looked up at her, before reaching out and grabbing her hand, tugging her down to him. She complied, stretching out beside him.

"Of course you are, you occupy a whole room."

She laughed softly, "Do I? I had no idea."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, slipping his arm underneath her so that his hand could rest on her lower back. One of her small hands was splayed out on his chest.

"Molly Hooper, you are the Queen of my Mind Palace. You helped me survive a bullet wound. You kept me alive. You guided me home."

She clutched at his t-shirt, balling it into her fist, "I didn't know."

"Well … now you do."

Silence fell for several minutes. The faint hum of Mrs. Hudson's television was barely audible.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"You know how you delete things …?"

"I've never deleted a single thing you have said or done."

"Oh. That's slightly frightening. They can't all be good. Most are probably horribly embarrassing."

"Nope." His mouth popped on the p, "Not a single one. I love them all. My Mind Palace Queen."

She giggled into his chest.

"I especially enjoy returning to the ones where I've made you scream in ecstasy." He purred into her ear.

She smacked his chest slightly, "You are such a dirty man!"

He twisted his body so that they were facing each other, side by side before he said, "It's all your fault, you have such a delectable and distracting body!"

She let out a squeal as he pulled her underneath him before kissing her deeply, turning their bodies so that they molded together.

He momentarily became unfocused, "Hmmm ... we haven't had sex on the sofa yet; this will be a new one to file away."

Her hands were around his neck, playing with his curls at his nape, "Sherlock. Shut up and kiss me."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, "Mind Palace Molly isn't quite so demanding."

"That's because she is a figment of your imagination and doesn't have any needs."

He raised an eyebrow, "Ohhh … and what needs are these?"

"I'm quite certain you can find the answer to that in your Mind Palace!" She stated as she hooked a leg over his hip, her ankle digging slightly into the curve of his arse.

He let out a deep chuckle before leaning down to kiss her again.


	14. Nape

Nape

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><p>If someone were to request of Molly Hooper to make a list of all the things she loved about Sherlock Holmes (a detailed list), it would probably take her several days to write it. And what would be first and foremost on that list? Oh, that is quite an easy thing for her to decide: his nape.<p>

It hadn't been the initial thing about him that she had noticed when they were introduced to one another. No, not at all. But it had caught her eye shortly after. Good God, the mere sight of it turned her on! And if she were to be asked as to why she loved his nape, she wouldn't be able to give a clear answer. She honestly didn't know herself.

For years she caught herself staring at it; at the base of his neck where the hairline met skin. It was extremely convenient to do so when he was sitting at a microscope in her lab. She would have loved nothing more than to move her fingertips over it, feeling the smooth silkiness of his hair and skin. But that was all purely fantasy. Molly often found herself staring off into the distance imagining her lips placing kisses there. She was always pulled back to reality by John asking her if she was all right. Her stammer would return and she would always blush and scurry from the room, never knowing about the satisfied smirk on Sherlock's face.

Several more years would pass before her fantasy became reality. It wasn't until Fauxriarty reared his ugly head in the form of Sebastian Moran that Sherlock was forced to admit to himself, and to Molly, ( and later on to John) that he did and he was capable of feelings, sentiment, emotion. The fact that it took Molly's life to be in danger for him to realize this was something that perhaps should have bothered her. But when his arms were holding her close to him, and his lips were on hers kissing her deeply, all thoughts of any sort of anger towards him fled from her mind. She knew how Sherlock worked, and if this was possibly just his way of getting her to do something for him, she was going to take full advantage (even if it meant later downing an entire bottle of red wine and shedding some tears). The force and suddenness of his kiss had quite thrown her off her axis, but she quickly righted herself and began to kiss him back. It was then that it was time for her fantasy to be fulfilled.

She slowly moved her hands upwards; over his chest to his jaw line then at last she curved her hands backwards and hit her desired target. Her fingertips moved through his hair, it was just as silky as she imagined. He let out a low growl into her mouth, their lips still having not parted, as her fingernails scraped slightly against his skin. He was just as warm and smooth as she expected. But truly, the real thing was so much better than the fantasy.

It wasn't until later, quite a bit later, that Molly came to realize that this wasn't Sherlock using her, that it was in fact him needing and wanting her. He was asleep now, his back to her, the paleness of his bare skin glowing slightly from the light of the streetlamps outside the window. She thought she had never seen anything more beautiful.

Moving slowly and quietly she slid her body up against him, reveling in his warmth of his skin against hers. It was time for her to fulfill another fantasy. With a faint smile on her lips she dipped her head down and began to place feather-light kisses upon the nape of his neck; outlining his hairline, brushing the tip of her nose along the shell of his ear. She knew he was awake; the pattern of his breathing had changed. She moved back downwards, pressing her lips now a bit more forcefully upon his skin.

"Molly." His voice cracked over the L's.

She smiled and he turned on to his back so that he was facing her. A satisfied smirk was upon his lips.

"I always knew you had a bit of a kink for my neck."

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

"You never once wondered why I set my microscope so low?"

Her eyes widened slightly before she reached out and gave his arm a swat, "Bastard!"

He let out a chuckle before grabbing her and pulling her down to him so that they were skin to skin once more, "Your thoughts were always extremely loud."

She hid her face in his chest, feeling slightly mortified.

"I rather enjoyed them." He murmured huskily into her ear, "The real thing is a bit better though, isn't it?"

He could feel her nod her head.

"Want to know what my kink is for you?"

She picked up her head and looked at him, "Yes."

"Your breasts and your lips."

She opened her mouth to say something but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"They are perfectly proportionate for you, and are quite pleasing to me."

She kissed him, humming contentedly against his lips. He rolled her onto her back, allowing her to slip her hands up to his nape.

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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	15. Orgasms and Chocolate Chip Cookies

**Ahem. Anywhoo ... welcome to my first time delving into Sherlock and Molly smut ... oh dear ... what have these two done to me? Ahh yes, on to what the story is about! Molly has had an utterly awful day at work and decides to make herself some chocolate chip cookies. Sherlock, being Sherlock, deduces her bad day and decides to make it better ... with his ... body ... I think you get the idea ;) Basically this is purely fluffy smut! ENJOY!**

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><p>Orgasms &amp; Chocolate Chip Cookies:<p>

Perhaps not entirely in the order

(I regret nothing with that title)

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><p>It was one of those days. One of those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Molly felt as if the universe was against her!<p>

First she had overslept, some how managing to repeatedly hit the snooze button. But it had felt so good to go back to sleep! Damn Sherlock and his experiments! If he hadn't kept her up so late, helping him, she would have gotten up on time.

Secondly, she had forgotten her umbrella, something she rarely ever left her flat without. And of course today it had to be raining. Not a soft, gentle rain, but a downright deluge! Luckily she always kept an extra pair of clothes and shoes in her locker. Mostly just in case if she happened to have a rather tricky (i.e. messy) autopsy or if something went wrong in the lab.

Thirdly, Sherlock never came by for his visit. Ever since they had entered into a relationship (yes, in spite of his dislike for titles they had to call what they were in, something!) he would always stop by to see her. She hadn't even had a text from him. Figuring though that he was busy with a case she chose not to bother him. But the lack of seeing him in her lab was the icing on the cake of her miserable day. That and the fact that an intern had just broken an entire set of beakers.

It was with a great sigh of relief that she walked out of Bart's hospital at the end of her shift. She didn't usually feel this way upon leaving the morgue, it was her _home away from home_, but today it had been entirely against her. She wanted nothing more than to go to her flat and change into her most comfortable clothes, have a glass of red wine and cuddle with Toby. He was a poor replacement for Sherlock though. Sherlock always did a lot more than cuddle with her.

Of course it was still raining and of course she still didn't have an umbrella, thus she arrived at her flat rather drenched. After toweling herself off, and peeling from her skin her soaked clothing, she put on a pair of her softest pyjama bottoms and one of Sherlock's t-shirts.

Toby mewled happily at her as she walked towards the kitchen. She gave him some food and then poured herself a generous glass of wine. Opening the fridge she eyed its contents, but nothing appealed to her.

"This type of days calls for a batch of chocolate chip cookies!"

After grabbing her iPad off the coffee table she pulled up the recipe and proceeded to gather the ingredients. The kitchen filled with the sound of her humming, and the scent of melting butter, as she began to chop up some almonds. Her text tone chirped. Grabbing up her mobile she saw that it was from Sherlock.

'Sorry I didn't come to the lab; I had a case, a nine. I was in my mind palace for most of the day. Forgive me? – SH'

Molly smiled slightly as she read his text.

'You're forgiven. I missed you today. – Mx'

'Where are you? – SH'

'At my flat. – Mx'

'What are you doing? – SH'

She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

'I'm baking. – Mx'

'Rough day? – SH'

Now she found herself smiling fully. He knew that she had the tendency to bake when work had been awful.

'Yes. – Mx'

'Can I come over and make it better? – SH'

She giggled slightly as she typed out her reply.

'You need never ask. Please come. – Mx'

'I intend to make you do that several times tonight. – SH'

She felt her cheeks grow bright red. Putting her phone down, she returned to the task at hand. By the time she heard the sound of her flat door opening and closing the cookies were in the oven and she was doing the washing up.

Drying her hands she rushed out of the kitchen and jumped into Sherlock's arms. She had gotten in the habit of greeting him in this manner. He had learned to brace himself; the first time had ended up with the pair of them lying on the floor. This ended up not exactly being a bad thing.

He held on to her tightly, cupping her bum in his hands as they kissed deeply. She moaned into his mouth as he pressed her up against him, letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her.

"Time?" He croaked out.

"Eight minutes." She panted.

"Hmmm …"

He carried her to the sofa, lying her down on her back. She peered up at him, still breathing heavily.

"What are you doing?"

In reply he gave her a sly grin. Leaning forward he took a hold of the tops of her pyjama bottoms and pulled them down; revealing that she conveniently wore no knickers underneath. She flashed him a cheeky grin in return. He tossed the pyjama bottoms off to the side and kneeled in between her legs.

With a hand at each ankle he slowly moved them upwards, over her smooth pale skin. He stopped when his hands reached her knees, and with a gentle nudge he spread her legs wider apart.

Leaning forward once more he kissed her as he moved one of his hands further upwards, his fingertips tracing along her inner thigh. She let out a small gasp into his mouth as his fingers slipped in between her slick folds. He moaned in approval of her arousal.

Breaking apart their kiss he hovered over her as he worked his fingers in her. He then began to move downwards, pressing hot kisses along her jaw line, onto her neck, then her breasts, suckling on them through the fabric of the t-shirt. His fingers were still moving inside of her, but not touching one vital area. Her body was aching for it; she needed him to touch her there.

"Please …" She begged, loving yet also hating how he could turn her into such a whimpering mess.

His mouth was now on her stomach, kissing around the navel. Ever so slowly he moved downwards until …

"YES!"

She had thrown her head back, burying her hands in his curls as he lapped at her with his tongue. She came quickly around his fingers, crying out, her legs shuddering slightly. With one last gentle suck he lifted his head and pulled his fingers out of her. As she lay there, panting heavily, she watched as he licked his fingers clean.

"Love the taste of you." He murmured before moving forward to kiss her again.

Molly kissed him back hungrily, clearly desperate for more. When properly aroused, her desire was not quickly sated. Nor was Sherlock's. The timer broke through their arousal driven state. He let out a groan of annoyance, falling off to one side as she got up from the sofa and moved towards the kitchen. He watched her, noting that just the very tip of her bum was peeking out from beneath the t-shirt she still wore.

Following her into the kitchen he watched for a few moments as she carefully removed each of the cookies onto a cooling rack. Just as she placed the last cookie he stepped up behind her, slipping his arms about her waist and buried his face in her neck. She let out a soft sigh as she leaned back in to him.

"I could have you right here, right now, just like this." His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Moving his hand downward he once more slipped his fingers between her folds.

She moaned softly, "So why don't you?"

He started to kiss her neck, "Because tonight is all about you, not what I want. And I know you prefer the bed." With this said he lifted her up in his arms and carried her bridal style towards the bedroom. She had let out a yelp as he picked her up and quickly began to laugh. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down towards her so that she could kiss him. Once in the bedroom he laid her down upon the bed and was about to lean forward to kiss her again when a loud persistent meow broke through their moment.

"Absolutely not!"

Sherlock spun about searching for the source of the unwanted interruption. Spotting Toby he quickly removed him from the room and shut the door.

"Damn beast!"

Molly had pushed herself up on her elbows and was smiling at him. He smiled back at her and got onto the bed, hovering his body over hers.

"Where were we?"

Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Slipping his hands under the t-shirt he gave it a gentle tug. She sat up a bit further, and they broke apart the kiss so that the t-shirt could be removed in entirety.

"Lie back." He murmured against her lips.

She did as he requested, and he kissed her once more. His hands had come to rest on her hips and were now moving upwards. They did not stop until they reached her breasts. He cupped them in his hands and she let out a moan into his mouth as he began to massage and knead them with his fingers. He gently pinched each nipple between a finger and his thumb.

Breaking away from her mouth he began to leave a hot trail of wet kisses from her lips, down her neck, onto her clavicle, until he suckled one pebbled nipple into his mouth. His hand was still massaging the other breast. After duly spending attention upon it, he switched his mouth to her other nipple.

"Sherlock…" Her voice came out in a breathy tone.

He glanced up at her, her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Her cheeks were ever so faintly flushed. She repeated his name again. He knew exactly what she wanted. With his mouth still upon her breast, his teeth grazing across it ever so slightly, he moved his hand downwards over her stomach until reaching the desired spot. She cried out as he moved his thumb in a circular motion. She lifted up her lips, pressing herself into his hand as she rode out yet another orgasm.

Her hips dropped back down to the mattress as she lay there catching her breath. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He smiled down at her, having released her breast from his mouth. She kissed him hungrily, pouring as much appreciation as she could into that one kiss. It was not every day that The World's Only Consulting Detective could be so entirely unselfish.

As they continued to kiss she moved her hands to his chest and began to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers fumbled. He chuckled as he pulled away from her.

"Why the hell are you still wearing clothes?" She questioned him.

He smiled down at her as he slipped off the bed and proceeded to undress himself. She had returned to her previous position; sitting up on her elbows. She watched him with hungry eyes as his pale skin slowly became revealed. Her eyes trailed downwards, only stopping when they came to the rather large erection he was sporting. A slight shiver traveled through her body. Molly rather loved the fact that Sherlock always wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Now fully naked he moved himself back on to the bed and slipped his body over hers, at last skin to skin. She hummed happily as she kissed him again, her nipples pressing into his chest. She moved a hand down between their bodies and gave him a few gentle strokes. His body jerked slightly.

"Mmmff! Molly. Don't." He panted out, "Tonight is about you, not me."

She gave him another stroke with her finger and he swatted her hand away, causing her to giggle. His nose was pressed against hers; she could feel his hot breath hitting her cheek.

"Mmm … I want you. I need you." She murmured to him.

Their eyes were locked on each others.

"Want you. Too." He seemed to almost struggle to get these words out.

She loved it when he looked like this, so positively wrecked beyond belief. His face was flushed, his pupils fully dilated. His breaths were coming in ragged gasps. It still boggled her that it was she who did this to him.

Neither one of them had moved, both too lost in the moment. She nudged his nose with her own, closing her eyes before opening them again and meeting his. He wasn't deducing her, wasn't studying her, he was simply looking at her, admiring her.

"I love you." His voice was a gravelly whisper.

She smiled at him as she reached up with her hand and stroked his jaw line with her thumb, "I love you too."

He smiled back at her before capturing her lips with his own. As they continued to kiss he shifted his body until he was directly hovering above her. Reaching out he grabbed at her leg, hooking it up over his hip. She whimpered into his mouth then moaned as he brushed himself against her wet center.

Breaking apart their kiss, with his lips just over hers he slipped his hand down between their bodies and guided himself in to her. His eyes were locked on hers, watching as they widened slightly as he entered her. It took a few shallow thrusts before he was fully seated inside of her. He stilled his movements, reveling in the sensation of her surrounding him. She took a hold of his face and brought him down to her for a heated kiss. He began to move again.

Grabbing on to both her legs he continued to thrust into her. Her knees were bent now; he pushed her legs on top of his back, her ankles crossing over. The angle of his thrusts changed, he was in her deeper now, the tip of him hitting the spot that always sent her over the edge.

Her nails were digging into his arse as he pressed kisses on to the milky white underside of her breasts. She was moaning loudly, bucking up her hips to his, meeting him thrust for thrust. She was starting to shudder around him, a sure sign that she was close. With a gentle nip with his teeth, he moved his tongue across her distended nipple. The slight shock of pain sent her into orgasm. She cried out, throwing her head back, exposing her pale neck to him. He was certain she was seeing stars. All it took were a few more thrusts and he joined her. He emptied himself into her, thrusting shallowly a few more times before bringing himself to a standstill.

They laid there, clinging to each other, both panting heavily. He lifted up his head; he had dropped it to her shoulder as his own orgasm took over. He was still inside of her, her ankles still crossed over his back. She moved her hands over his skin, stopping when she reached his shoulders. He kissed her slowly, basking in their shared afterglow.

Afterglow. A perfect word. It described exactly how she looked to him; glowing. She was glowing. He kissed her again, this time a bit more deeply. She shifted her hips slightly and he let out a soft groan. He couldn't possibly be ready for another round, could he?

"If this is how I am to be treated when I have a bad day, then I may try to have bad days more often." Molly said to him.

Sherlock chuckled against her mouth as he kissed her again, "Anything to make you feel better. I do not like an unhappy Molly."

"Hmmmm … is that because I have the tendency to make your life a living hell when I'm upset?"

His mouth had started to wander, placing kisses here and there on her body, "Mmm … yes."

It was her turn to chuckle. She bucked her hips, moving him inside of her. He let out another muffled groan.

"You want me again?"

He gave her a thrust, beginning to grow hard once more.

"I always want you."

He kissed her, "Always want you too."

She could feel him lengthening in her. Moving a hand down between them she gave him a few strokes with her fingertips, before touching her own sensitive spot. He surged forward, fully hard now, pressing her hand between their joined bodies. She moaned loudly.

Pulling out he gently nudged her hand away before thrusting forward once more. After several more thrusts he pushed down on her knees until they hit the mattress, moving her ankles until they were resting against the back of his neck.

"All right?" He questioned her hoarsely, making sure she wasn't uncomfortable.

She nodded in reply. He pulled himself out of her almost entirely before slipping back in with one solid thrust. She practically screamed as she grabbed at his back. He had entered into her far deeper than he ever had before, and at an entirely new angle. The sensation was almost too much for the pair of them. But it felt so incredibly good. Neither of them lasted very long, both coming in unison. She screamed out his name, her legs shaking as she convulsed around him. He came with a garbled cry, chanting her name into her skin.

He rolled off of her, collapsing down beside her. They were both absolutely sated and spent, for now. Minutes passed before they were able to catch their breath. Molly was the first to move. She slid towards Sherlock as he turned his head to her. Their lips met. They kissed lazily, both too tired for anything more.

"Thank you." She murmured to him.

He smiled against her mouth before pulling her up against him and grabbing the duvet to cover them. With one final kiss they both closed their eyes and proceeded to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>It was late morning when Molly woke. Her body ached slightly, a flood of memories surging forward in her mind. She sighed softly, remembering how good Sherlock had made her feel. Tilting her head she felt his nose bump against her ear. That was when she realized that his arm was draped across her, his hand just below her left breast. She turned in towards him, until they were nose to nose. His hand had managed to slip down to her arse. His eyes were still closed, his breathing pattern hadn't changed. When the man needed sleep it was almost impossible to wake him up. Almost.<p>

Pushing the duvet away from them, she smiled cheekily to herself at the thought of what she was about to do. Keeping her eyes locked on his face she moved her hand downwards until it reached her desired target. She watched for any sign of him waking up as she began to stroke him with her fingers. She could see movement beneath his eyelids, his mouth had opened slightly, and his breathing had deepened, but yet still he did not awaken. He was fully hard now, heavy in her hand. Stopping the movements with her fingers she slipped her body down the mattress until she became level with him. Ever so slowly she took the tip of him in to her mouth and gave it a gentle suck, moving her tongue over it.

"Molly!"

Her name was spoken in a garbled gasp. His eyes were fully opened and he was looking down at her. His chest was rising and falling as he took deep breaths.

"What are you doing?"

She released him from her mouth and moved back up, placing a finger on his lips.

"Shhh … just lie back and relax."

After giving him a kiss she moved back down and took him in between her lips once more. The room filled with the sounds of her mouth working on him and his groans. She knew that he was close, judging by the sounds he was making and the way his hips were stuttering. Reaching up she grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. She took as much of him in her mouth as she could and gave him one last long, drawn out suck. He cried out as he came, his hand holding tightly on to hers. He fell back against the pillows, breathing deeply.

Once she had swallowed every last drop she released him from her mouth. With his hand still clasping hers he pulled her up, and cradled her face with his other hand as he kissed her deeply. She smiled at him as they broke apart to breathe.

"Thank you."

She pressed her forehead to his, "Last night was …" She shook her head, knowing that no word would suffice to describe it. So she kissed him instead.

He held her close up against him, his fingertips running up and down her spine, as he returned the kiss. Molly was certain that it would never cease to amaze her how different Sherlock could be when it was just the two of them, alone.

The walls he had built around himself would crumble and fall away. The cool, contemplative Consulting Detective would disappear, and all that would remain was a very human, man. Yes, he could still act like a petulant child and still have his mood swings, but when he was with her, just her, he allowed his true self to be revealed.

He had her pinned down onto her back as they broke their kiss in order to breathe again. Just as his hand began to slip downwards towards her center she grabbed a hold of his fingers and stopped him.

"Not yet. I need to eat something first." She kissed the tip of his nose, "And so do you."

Both of her hands were on his chest now, she gave him a gentle push and he moved off of her. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Wait here."

He watched as she slipped off of the bed and padded out of the room. He greatly admired the fact that she was in no way embarrassed by her nakedness. He laid there for some minutes listening to her moving about in the kitchen. The smell of chocolate drifted into the room, followed by a hint of coffee.

A few more minutes passed before she came walking back in, bearing a tray. She set it down on the bed, revealing two mugs of coffee and a plate of the cookies she had baked the night before.

He sat up as she got back on to the bed and picked up one of the mugs. She held it out to him and he took it, she moved to take up her own mug but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him to kiss her. She sighed into his mouth.

They leaned against the headboard, mugs in hand, shoulder against shoulder, the plate of cookies on their legs. Neither had spoken for several minutes, both of them just enjoying the quiet.

Sherlock's hand was resting on Molly's inner thigh, stroking her skin. She had finished her coffee and had set the mug down on the nightstand. She was now nibbling on a cookie. He had eaten an entire cookie in two bites.

"These are rather good."

She smiled at him then noticed that he had a bit of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. Wiping it away with her fingertip she licked it off, smiling again as he watched her. He set his mug down then shoved the tray away from, and grabbed the plate of cookies, placing it by his side. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you doing?"

He smiled at her and took her hand, tugging downwards until she laid down on her back. She watched as he dipped a fingertip into the still melted chocolate on one of the cookies.

"I think I found something to do with this."

Hovering his hand over her for a second he then slowly dropped it down and smoothed the chocolate over her skin, coating her nipple.

"Ohhh …" she breathed out.

His mouth quickly replaced his finger, sucking the chocolate off. She whimpered as he pulled away to repeat the same action upon her other breast.

"Mmmm delicious."

He repeated this several more times, causing her to make soft noises of pleasure.

"Molly?"

She didn't answer for several seconds, "Ye-es?"

His mouth was still on her nipple, teasing her with his teeth.

"When do you have to go in to work today?"

More chocolate on her skin, now around her navel. There would be a visible love bite there, later.

"Not until … ohhhh … not until tonight. I'm working the … mmmm … the graveyard shift. OH!"

She could practically feel him smirking in to her skin. She let out a sound of disappointment as he moved his mouth away from her. Opening up her eyes, which had closed due to his ministrations, she looked down at him. His lips were glistening slightly.

"Good." He raised an eyebrow, "Do you have anymore of this chocolate?"

THE END


	16. Parental(s)

**I started this way back in October last year and it has sat upon my computer since. I've come back to it from time to time and added a bit here and there, but for the most part I really struggled as where to take it. So finally I sat down and just wrote whatever came to me and well this is the result. I had no intentions of this becoming smutty but as in the words of the ever articulate Sherlock Holmes: 'That just sort of happened.'**

* * *

><p>Parental(s)<p>

* * *

><p>Their voices drifted down the stairs, becoming more or less muffled by the closing of the door. As Sherlock walked away from it, with a slight grimace on his face, John gave him a questioning look and opened his mouth to speak. He stopped though when he suddenly heard another voice join in; a voice that belonged to one Molly Hooper.<p>

"Oh hello Violet, Siger!"

John's mouth dropped open farther, his eyes widening to an almost comical size. Sherlock conveniently avoided his gaze. The voices died away, replaced with the sound of a single pair of footsteps coming up the stairs. Molly walked in, unwinding her colourful scarf.

"Hello John! I didn't know you were here!"

He gaped at her like a fish, opening and closing his mouth.

"Everything all right?" She was frozen in the doorway, not even making her usual move to kiss Sherlock hello.

John finally found his voice, "You, you know his parents?"

She bit down on her bottom lip before giving a quick glance towards Sherlock, "Uhh, yeah."

"How? I've never met them, not once. This is the first I've ever really heard of or seen them."

She stepped further into the flat, shutting the door behind her before turning to Sherlock and exclaiming loudly, "You were awfully rude! Making them leave so quickly like that! And not even properly introducing them to John! Your lack of manners is appalling sometimes!"

Sherlock merely gave a shrug in reply and took up his violin, slightly miffed that she didn't seem intent on kissing him. John still stood there, waiting for her answer. She turned back towards him, her coat and scarf now in her hands.

"I went and stayed with them … after … the Fall … Mycroft brought me to their home." She explained slowly.

John reared back as if he had been punched, "I thought you went to Cardiff." His fingers were fidgeting.

"That was a front. Mycroft didn't want anyone to know where I had actually gone. Didn't want to arouse suspicion."

John clenched his hand then released it, "Oh. Right. That makes sense."

"I thought you knew, I thought Sherlock had told you, after he came back."

The pair of them looked towards Sherlock. He had his back conveniently turned and was plucking at the strings of his violin.

"They're really quite lovely." Molly noted.

"Ordinary." Sherlock cut in.

Molly shot at a glare at his back, "You'd like them. I'll be sure to make Sherlock introduce you; they'll be in London for the week. We're actually meeting them for dinner and show tonight."

John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Did it help? Staying with them?"

Even though she wasn't looking directly at Sherlock, she could see that his back had stiffened slightly at John's question.

"Yeah, it did. It really did."

"So … the two of you …" John gestured first to Molly then to Sherlock, "You were together before … all of that?"

"No."

John tilted his head to the side, "Oh. I just thought, since you went to stay with his parents …"

"No. It wasn't like that. Mycroft thought that it would be the safest and smartest thing to do; take me away for a little while. He thought I would be too vulnerable, that I was at risk of telling everyone the truth."

Sherlock let out an indignant sniff, and spun about as he played a harsh note on his violin, "That's because he doesn't know you like I do. I trusted you; I knew that you would be able to keep my secret. It was entirely unnecessary for you to go and stay with my parents."

Molly gave him a weary look, "Sherlock we've been over this several times already. It was nice; I enjoyed my time with them. And I think it did make it easier. It was good to be around those who knew you were still alive."

He gave another sniff and spun back around. John watched as Molly rolled her eyes before letting out an almost silent sigh.

"Touchy subject?" He mouthed to her.

She nodded, stepped closer to him and spoke in a whisper, "Mycroft never told him of his intentions. Sherlock didn't know I had stayed with his parents until after he came back. He felt as if Mycroft over-stepped his boundaries. He was just being nice, yes; shockingly enough Mycroft is capable of being nice. Must be Anthea's influence on him."

Sherlock started to play a melody on his violin.

John's mouth dropped open once more, "Anthea? Mycroft and Anthea? The woman who is always tapping away on her blackberry?"

Molly nodded, "Mhmm."

"Will you two please stop discussing the fact that my brother has found himself a goldfish? It's impeding upon my playing."

Molly bit back a smile, "Another touchy subject." She spoke this without moving her lips. She cleared her throat before speaking in a louder tone, "Why don't you bring Mary over for dinner sometime this week? Perhaps Friday night? I'll cook. I know his mum and dad would love to meet you both. Isn't that right Sherlock?"

He turned on his heel, fixing her with a withering gaze, "You cannot be serious."

"I am. Sherlock, they deserve to meet him, and Mary. Your parents hardly ever come up to London. Maybe Mycroft can come as well?"

"Oh good Lord."

Molly let out a laugh, "Agree to it, or I won't shag you for an entire week!"

John wished he was anywhere but there at that moment. Sherlock only muttered under his breath, his cheeks turning faintly pink as he put down his violin, before tugging his dressing gown tightly around himself and plopping down in his chair. He proceeded to pout.

"Fine."

Molly flashed a triumphant smile before turning to John, "Will Friday work for you?"

He cleared his throat before answering, "I'll ask Mary, but I don't think we have anything planned."

"All right, text me and let me know!"

* * *

><p>Molly had outdone herself. She had always enjoyed cooking, but tonight she had really gone rather over-the-top. Well, that's what Sherlock had told her. She secretly knew that he was rather pleased with her cooking endeavors.<p>

Although the man had a tendency to go for days without a meal while working on a case, he had an inexplicable weakness for anything that Molly cooked or baked. The night that she had moved into Baker Street she had made Pasta Fagioli for dinner and upon his first bite, he instantly swore that he would not skip a meal whenever she cooked, case or not. John would have told him that he was whipped, if John had had any inkling of the matter that is.

"Spare a moment?" Sherlock had just stepped into the kitchen, sidling up to her.

"Hmmm? For what?" Molly asked as she put down the wooden spoon she had been holding.

"For this." He answered, grabbing her about the waist and spinning her so that he could pull her against him for a spontaneous snog.

She let out a breathless laugh when he released her, "What was that for?"

"Do I need to give a reason for wanting to kiss you?" He asked, not loosening his hold on her.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, "I'm not cancelling tonight."

His bottom lip protruded, "Damn."

Molly shook her head, stepping out of his embrace, "One little snog will not make me change my mind Sherlock."

She returned to stirring the fresh tomato sauce she was making. He had crossed his arms over his chest and was grumbling beneath his breath. It would be a matter of minutes before he had settled himself into a full-blown sulk.

"It's just dinner Sherlock, you'll survive. You never know, it could even be fun!"

A loud humph was the only reply she was given.

"If you behave, I'll wear to bed that silk negligee you like." She spoke this in a bit of a sing-song tone.

When he didn't respond she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was standing stock-still, staring, and unblinking. Molly suppressed the urge to let out a snort, knowing that he was most certainly in his Mind Palace.

"Thinking good thoughts?" She muttered, turning back to the pot.

"Mmm … very good thoughts."

She was shocked that he had answered her. Suddenly he turned and looked at her with a wide smile.

"You have a deal Doctor Hooper."

He gave her a tender kiss and she proceeded to give his arse a good smack with the back of her hand as he exited the kitchen.

An hour later everyone had arrived. Siger and Violet were talking amiably with John and Mary. Siger and John were busy sharing army stories whilst Violet and Mary were talking about babies. Violet had little Scarlett in her arms, cooing and tickling her chubby cheeks. Scarlett was clearly taken with her, cooing back and giggling happily. Mycroft and Sherlock were standing off to the side, both with expressions of disdain upon their faces.

"Behave!" Molly hissed beneath her breath, "Mycroft, I'll call Anthea and tell her that your mother begged for you two to give her a grandchild."

The British Government's eyes bulged. He swallowed thickly then moved forward to join the party, smiling as amiably as he could manage. Sherlock smirked, but that quickly faded when he noticed Molly glaring at him. With a sigh he too stepped forward, joining his mother and father upon the sofa.

After dinner had been eaten, and praises sung to Molly, they all retired back into the main room. Violet Holmes was settled comfortably once more upon the sofa, passing around photos of Sherlock as a baby, a toddler, a young boy, and a teenager. Molly had seen most of these already when she had stayed with Violet and Siger, having spent considerable time with Violet perusing over photo albums of the two Holmes boys. She kept her comments and giggles in check, although both John and Mary didn't hold back.

As Violet held out a particular photo, Sherlock's eyes became frozen wide in horror. Molly knew that he was nearing the tipping point, so she made the move to go re-fill her wine glass. When she passed by him, she ducked down her head and whispered into his ear, "Silk negligee."

His eyebrows shot up, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. With a triumphant smile Molly continued on into the kitchen, grateful that no one had seemed to notice the exchange.

A short while later, after tea and dessert had been partaken of, the Watson's and the elder Holmes' took their leave. Mycroft had left long ago, but not before Molly had given him a small tin of the cookies that he liked.

The moment the door closed behind their visitors, Sherlock had hoisted Molly into his arms and had carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door shut. Her flats had fallen off of her feet when Sherlock had picked her up. He toed off his own shoes, prior to dropping her down onto the mattress, and then leaned down to peel off his socks before joining her on the bed.

Molly was quite used to Sherlock's eagerness, helping him to remove her blouse and bra. Once both articles were tossed to the floor he cupped one breast with his hand, latching his mouth onto the other.

"But what about my negligee?" Molly asked her voice tinged with mock-concern.

"That would be nothing more than a hindrance right now." Sherlock replied thickly, removing her trousers in one swift movement.

When he noticed that she wasn't wearing any knickers, he let out a very audible groan. Molly chuckled, cradling the sides of his face with her hands so that she could pull him down to her for a kiss. He kissed her back forcefully, struggling to remove his own trousers. She laughed again when he let out an exasperated noise.

"Here, let me." She gave him a gentle push.

He rolled onto his back and she sat up. Quickly and deftly she had his trousers unbuttoned and unzipped. He lifted his hips so that she could tug both the trousers and his pants down. As soon as she had thrown them to the floor he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him. He let out a satisfied sigh against her lips as her naked body became pressed against his own.

"Told you, you'd survive!" She declared.

He let out a low growl, "Only thanks to you, and that lovely little image of you in that ridiculous scrap of silk fabric." He rolled them until she was the one on her back; he was gazing down upon her, drinking in the sight of her bare form.

"Is that how you do it?" She questioned, bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders.

His brow furrowed, "Do what?"

"Get through annoying situations, you think of me?"

"Mmm … generally yes. Tonight though, I should have used Naked Mind Palace Molly that would have been a much better choice."

She felt her face turn bright red, "So that's what you're thinking of when your eyes become unfocused? Unbelievable."

He gave her a cheeky grin, "It's not my fault that your body is so … delectable." He dropped his head and dragged the tip of his tongue down through the hollow between her breasts, not stopping until he reached her navel, giving her skin a nip with his teeth.

"Absolutely incorrigible." She hissed out, her fingertips digging into his shoulders.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her. He placed a kiss over the slightly red mark he had made then pulled himself back up, hovering over her.

She dug her nails slightly into his skin, "Perhaps I should invite your parents and Mycroft to dinner more often!"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed to slits, "Don't. You. Dare."

Molly tried to fight back a smile, but didn't succeed, "I'm just teasing you." She moved her hands up to his curls, giving them a not-too-gentle tug.

He growled again, capturing her lips with his own in order to make sure that she didn't spout any more ridiculous ideas. She kissed him back hungrily, hooking her leg up over his hip, bringing her ankle to rest on the small of his back.

Now this was an idea he could agree with. He slipped his hand down between them, wrapping his fingers around his aching erection in order to line himself up with her welcoming, eager body. She sighed against his lips as he slid into her with ease.

He kept his movements slow at first; filing away every noise that she made and each sensation that their joined bodies created as he thrust into her at a leisurely pace. But when she began to lift up her hips to meet his, clearly desperate for more, he quickly complied.

"Yes!" She gasped out, now digging her nails into the skin of his back, holding onto him tightly as he increased the speed and harshness of his thrusts.

Neither one of them lasted for much longer, the pair of them climaxing noisily; they were never the type to be silent while making love. His entire body shuddered against hers as she continued to hold him close.

When his breathing gradually grew a bit steadier, he rolled to the side pulling her with him to keep her body near to his. They kissed lazily, gazing into each other's eyes.

"I think I'm going to have to ask your mother to send me a copy of that photo of you dressed as a pirate." Molly said to him, brushing her fingertips over his jaw line, "So adorable. It should be framed, and hung on the wall."

His eyes returned to narrow slits, "Do that and I won't shag you for a month!"

A guttural laugh escaped her, bubbling up through her throat, "Stealing my tactics are you?"

He exhaled loudly before pushing her down onto her back so that he could place a bite directly over her pulse point. She hitched in a breath, clutching tightly to his biceps as he now lapped at her tender flesh with his tongue.

Perhaps framing the photo was a bit much, but she was definitely going to ask for a copy of it, at least to wave it in front of him when he was being particularly arse-like. Oh yes, being on very friendly terms with Sherlock's mother had its benefits!

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	17. Quiet (Moments)

Quiet (Moments)

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><p>Moment One<p>

Quiet was not a common thing when you were with Sherlock Holmes. He had the tendency to talk out loud; not exactly to any particular person, although he would sometimes conduct an entire conversation with John who hadn't been in the flat for hours. He would also play the violin, at any time day or night, claiming that it helped him to think. When he was working on a case he would mutter to himself, pacing back and forth as he studied his wall of deductions. It was always in the aftermath, when the puzzle had at last been solved or the bad guy apprehended that the quiet would settle in. Mrs. Hudson would bring up the tea tray and would always find Sherlock and (more often than not) Molly curled up together asleep on the sofa.

Moment Two

The rain never failed to make Sherlock lazy. The rain and the summer heat. What was the use of leaving the flat when he couldn't wear his beloved Belstaff? And also, what was the use of leaving the flat when Molly (oh so conveniently) claimed that it was far too hot to even consider putting on any clothing. The sight of her naked body, her delicious pale skin, was more than enough to keep him home. That and the fact that the rain drowned out all other noise, making them feel as if they were the only two people in the world.

Moment Three

Most people would probably be rather pissed at the fact that someone snuck into their flat at three in the morning, but Molly was not most people. Although, there had been a few times where she hadn't given Sherlock her usual warm welcome. This was not one of those times though. She had missed him, and he had missed her (he would never admit that to anyone else but her). It was afterwards when they laid curled about each other, skin to skin, that Molly loved the most. No words were needed then, they had spoken enough with their bodies. They would always share a few lazy kisses, before drifting off to sleep.

Moment Four

The lab was always a quiet place; it was in the morgue that Sherlock would ramble off his deductions. But in the lab, silence prevailed. Sherlock would be at his usual microscope, studying a flesh-eating bacteria or a blood sample, while Molly was filling out paper work or sitting before a microscope of her own. When she would bring him a coffee (black, two sugars) he would reach out and brush his hand over hers, a silent thank you. Proof that he still saw her even when he wasn't looking.

Moment Five

Hospital rooms were never quiet. There was always the insistent beep of the heart monitor, the chatting nurses down the hall, the crying families; there was never absolute silence. Not unless you had a Mind Palace, a Mind Palace that you could hide yourself away in, shutting everything out. Except for when the Mind Palace became a place you did not wish to go to, because the here and now was too important. That the person in the hospital bed before you (fighting for their life) was far more important than any bloody Mind Palace could ever be. Sherlock welcomed the noises, welcomed the re-assuring beep. As he took her hand in his, her small pale hand, he made a solemn vow that he would take the time for them to have more quiet moments together.

Moment Six

He had always liked children. Admired them for their innate ability to see things that most (all) adults could not. In spite of this though, he had never once considered becoming a father. That was of course until a certain Molly Hooper, now Holmes, had entered in to his life. When they had first discovered that she was pregnant, he had of course deduced it long before she would ever consider taking a pregnancy test, he had been pleased and yet also slightly daunted. Yes, The Great Sherlock Holmes daunted! But it wasn't until he first held his daughter in his arms, swaying slightly with her curious eyes staring up at him, that all other sounds died away and he knew that he had nothing to worry about.

Moment Seven

Molly loved waking up on her days off because it meant that she could wake up slowly and quietly. There was no alarm blaring, no desperate wash in the shower and no rush for coffee; she could move as slowly as she liked. The best though was when she woke up in the arms of a certain Consulting Detective, who had an uncanny knack for knowing when she had days off. He also had the uncanny knack of keeping her in bed all day (not that she was complaining).

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	18. Reminder

Reminder

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><p>Molly was being pressed into the cushion of her sofa; her boyfriend (he hated the word, but what else was she supposed to call him?) had his lips upon her neck. She let out a soft little sigh before saying, "I really wish Mycroft hadn't chosen Tom to be my bodyguard. It was quite frustrating having him around, he looked so much like you, down to even the way he dressed. I know people thought it was odd. It made it that much more difficult to convince them that I had moved on …" Her voice dropped a few octaves lower, "Which I so obviously didn't."<p>

Sherlock lifted his head from where he had been lavishing her skin with open-mouthed kisses. There were already a few dark marks appearing.

"Mycroft didn't choose him." He deadpanned, "I did."

Molly blinked at him.

"I chose Tom specifically for those very reasons. He was a reminder for you. I wanted to make sure I would always be in your thoughts."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You utter arse!"

He grinned wolfishly, "It worked didn't it?"

She let out a snort, "You're unbelievable."

A few beats passed, he hadn't dropped his head back down to return his mouth to her neck. He was instead, studying her. She stared defiantly back at him, then gave a wolfish grin of her own.

"Since I pretended to be engaged to him … and he was supposed to be a reminder of you, does that mean that you and I are actually engaged?" She questioned.

He spluttered and she dissolved into laughter.

"Minx." He growled as he pushed her fully down onto her back. Her laughter died away into the occasional giggle. He was still staring down at her.

"What?" She asked him.

"Would you object to it?"

"Object to what?"

"Marrying me."

Her mouth dropped open, "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes."

She worried her bottom lip, "I don't know."

His nose crinkled, "What sort of answer is that?"

She pushed herself to sit up, forcing him to lean back, "Sherlock we only just made our relationship known. And despite our having been secretly together for the passed five years, minus the two you were away, I don't know if we're ready for that. Not after all that's recently happened."

He slumped against the cushion of the sofa, "You know why I did all of that with Janine. And you know why I did what I had to with Magnussen. And if you hadn't been kidnapped by that ridiculous Faux-riarty no one would know about us, now would they?"

Molly hugged her knees to her chest, "What exactly are you trying to say Sherlock?"

"Those two years away made me realize how important you are you to me. I always knew that you were, but it made it clearer. The thought of you kept me going. Kept me alive." He paused then raised his head so that their eyes could meet, "I think it's time for the world to know how much Sherlock Holmes, the man that claims sentiment is a chemical defect and that love is a disadvantage, is _in love_ with Molly Hooper."

She reached her hand out and took his in her own, "I think I rather like the sound of that."

"Is that a yes?"

"Mmm …" She pretended to think for a moment, "Yes!"

With a cry of triumph he pounced upon her, sending her flying backwards into the sofa cushions. Her laughter was drowned out as he kissed her deeply. She clung to him, running her fingers through his curls.

"Do you think Tom should be one of the witnesses?"

Sherlock growled, covering her mouth again with his own so that she could no longer make such ridiculous suggestions. She laughed into the kiss.

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	19. Sex (Quite a lot of It)

**A little something naughty for your weekend! :D**

Sex (quite a lot of it)

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><p>"Molly Hooper!" Sherlock gasped out, his body shaking, "I had no idea you were such a sexual woman! How did I not deduce that?"<p>

Her only reply was a chuckle as she cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. Their bodies were pressed together; he had yet to pull himself out of her. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart as her hands slid over his neck to bury her fingers in his curls. He broke apart the kiss, still panting.

"Although, I do recall you telling me that you and _Tom_ were having 'quite a lot of sex.'"

She gave Sherlock's hair a pull, causing him to groan.

"Shut it!"

He kissed her again, still on top of her. She loved it when he did this; the warmth and the weight of him on her was a glorious feeling. Although he tended to keep the majority of his weight off of her by holding himself up on his elbows. Molly moaned into his mouth as he thrust his hips slightly. She dug her fingernails into his scalp, causing him to let out a hiss.

She chuckled again, "I only said that to you because I wanted to see the look of horror on your face … and you didn't disappoint!"

He grumbled slightly and she gave him a cheeky smile.

"Minx." He muttered before kissing her once more. When they broke apart she brought her mouth to his ear, he could feel the warmth of her breath.

"You are a far more satisfying lover. In fact, you are the best that I've ever had." She whispered.

"Mmm … is that so?"

"Yes. It's quite nice to finally be with a man who has the same sexual appetite that I have."

He laughed softly, turning his head so that he could nip at her neck with his teeth. He was rewarded with her sharp gasp.

"Which, to be completely honest, rather surprises me. Mr. 'the body is merely transport!'" She teased.

He continued to nip and suckle at her neck, "Mmm, that's what I once thought. I've always had urges, but I was able to repress them. It may surprise you Molly, but I am actually human."

She giggled, "That is the most un-Sherlock-like thing I have ever heard you say!"

He grew quiet, only lightly brushing his lips over her skin.

She had to know, "How exactly did you become so versed in the art of making love?"

He lifted up his head and looked down at her, "Internet." He deadpanned.

She raised her eyebrows, "Sherlock Holmes, did you watch porn?"

He leaned back down to kiss her, "Mmm … there's loads of it on John's laptop."

She gave the back of Sherlock's head a little swat.

"Mmmf! I read some things too." His lips trailed down from her neck and over her clavicle before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth, giving it a gentle suck. She moaned and he moved his mouth to her other breast.

"In spite of what most people think, my brother included, I have had a few sexual experiences. Most were during university. I was simply looking for a way to quiet my mind, distract it. It worked for a bit actually, but none of them that I had prior to you were remotely satisfying." He stated, releasing her nipple from between his lips, and moving to kiss the smooth underside, "None of them were like you. None were so soft, so willing, so desirable."

She let out a satisfied sigh, "That's nice to know."

He picked up his head and moved his mouth back to hers for a quick kiss before continuing, "I quickly grew bored of them, their bodies. They no longer gave me that satisfaction I craved. Unlike you, Molly Hooper. I'll never grow tired of you; I will never grow tired of the sensation of your beautiful body surrounding me. Or the noises you make."

Molly's arms were draped over his shoulders as he said this to her. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down to her for a heated kiss. He surged his hips forward and she moaned loudly into his mouth. His recovery rate would never cease to amaze her. She moaned again, throwing her head back, as he thrust and grabbed one of her legs, hooking it over his hip so that her ankle came to rest at the small of his back.

"Is that why –" She was cut off with a gasp as he gave a particularly hard thrust, "Is that why we've had sex on nearly every piece of furniture in your flat?"

"Our flat." He corrected her, before muffling a groan in her shoulder, "And yes. That is why."

She whimpered as he pulled himself almost entirely out, just letting the tip of him rest in her. He loved teasing her like this.

"There are still a few more places we haven't tried." He noted, keeping his body still.

She was clawing at his skin, desperate to have him back inside her, filling her up. He couldn't take it anymore himself, he thrust forward and she let out a triumphant cry. He kissed her, holding tightly on to her hip with his hand, loving the feeling of her moving upwards to meet him. With his other hand he slipped it down between their joined bodies to stroke his thumb over her swollen bud.

"Oh God!" She gasped out.

"Mmm … not quite."

"Fuck! Sherlock, oh!"

He loved it when he made her curse. She could have such a filthy mouth. It was one of his favourite things he had discovered about her as their relationship had progressed.

She clung to him tightly, "Don't even think about pulling out again!"

"Not. Gonna. Happen." He panted. He always lost his ability for articulate speech when he was close, "Fuck!" He groaned, feeling her tighten around him. He could have quite the filthy mouth himself. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his thumb now moving over her bud in little circles.

She came with a loud, almost feral, moan, he closely following. He pulled himself out of her then, collapsing beside her. Both of them were breathing heavily. They lay like this for several minutes.

Once their breathing grew somewhat back to normal, Sherlock turned towards her and curled his body around hers, slipping one of his legs over and between hers. He placed a kiss upon her neck before saying, "Quite a lot of sex indeed!"  
>She gave his curls a tug in reply.<p>

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	20. Toby

Toby

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><p>Ever since Molly had moved in to 221B there had been an ongoing battle. A battle between Sherlock and Toby. It appeared that the cat had a shrewd intellect and knew exactly when and where Sherlock desired to sit or sprawl himself out. Most of the time, Sherlock knew how to get Toby to scram. But not today, today was different. Toby was curled up on Sherlock's chair.<p>

He stared down defiantly at the feline. Toby merely looked at him through half-closed eyes and even had the audacity to purr.

"Get off!" Sherlock snarled.

Toby only gave a meow in return, as if to say, "Why?"

With a low growl Sherlock whipped out his phone, snapped a photo and then fired off a text to Molly.

"Your damn beast won't remove itself from my chair! – SH"

"Aw! Just give him a nudge, isn't that what you always do? – Mx"

"I don't want his claws to scratch the leather! – SH"

"He doesn't have claws, Sherlock! – Mx"

"His back paws do! – SH"

Several minutes passed before Molly sent a reply. Sherlock had spent the time pacing. Toby had given another soft mewl before laying his head down and going to sleep, looking rather content.

"Pick him up then? – Mx"

"Absolutely not! Can't you come home and move him? – SH"

"Sherlock! NO! I'm working! I am not going to come home just to move my cat! Sit on the sofa for Christ's sake! – Mx"

"But I want to sit in my chair! – SH"

A whole minute passed before she sent her reply.

"Figure it out yourself genius. I have work to do. – Mx"

With an indignant huff Sherlock placed his phone on the coffee table before crossing his arms in front of his chest. He proceeded to study Toby, who was in fact happily asleep.

When Molly came home three hours later she expected to find Sherlock triumphantly sitting in his Toby-less chair. But, that was not how it was. Not at all. Toby was still on Sherlock's chair, as was Sherlock, albeit Toby looked far more comfortable than he.

"Sherlock … what?"

Molly stood in amazement that the World's Only Consulting Detective hadn't been able to remove a cat from his precious chair. Sherlock was in fact sitting upon the smallest portion of the cushion, his long legs dangling over the side. Toby was contentedly taking up the majority of it.

"Oh … hello Molly."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Made a compromise did you?"

Sherlock grimaced slightly, "Yes."

Shaking her head she walked over and scooped up Toby in her arms. He let out a loud purr. Sherlock sighed happily, sinking down onto the entire cushion that was now once more entirely his.

"Unbelievable." Molly muttered under her breath as she fed Toby, "He's able to get you off any other piece of furniture, but when it comes to his beloved chair it's as if his brain short circuits!"

"I can hear you!" Sherlock called out to her from said chair.

Rolling her eyes she washed her hands and walked back out to Sherlock. He was sitting quite comfortably now.

"Is there room for me? Or are you entirely against sharing now?"

He grabbed her hands, "For you, always."

She straddled his waist, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips. He had let go of her hands, his were now placed on the small of her back, his fingers laced together. Molly had draped her arms over his shoulders.

"If that happens again, which I can assure you it will, just entice him with some of his treats!"

"But I don't want to reward him for doing something he shouldn't! He'll end up associating going on my chair with getting a treat!"

Molly counted to ten inside of her head, "Fine then. Continue to sit in that incredibly odd fashion that I walked in on!"

Sherlock shrugged, seeming to accept his fate. But Molly wasn't easily fooled; she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What is it about him sitting on your chair that bothers you so much? You easily remove him when he is anywhere else!"

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment. Molly waited patiently.

"It's uhh … it's the fact that it's my chair. He's never sat in it before. Why is he suddenly doing that?"

Molly held back the urge to roll her eyes, "He likes you Sherlock. When cats like you, they tend to enjoy occupying the same places that you do."

His only reply was a humph.

"Admit it Sherlock, you like him too."

"I suppose so."

She giggled, "I think Toby won that round."

Sherlock pulled her closer, giving her a kiss, "I'm still not letting him into the bedroom though."

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	21. Unrequited

Unrequited

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><p><em> "<em>_Unrequited love's a bore, and I've got it pretty bad." _

John Mayer was crooning into her ears. Molly sighed to herself, her chin resting in her hand. The words he had just sung could not have been truer.

"Bloody bastard." She muttered.

No, not John Mayer, but none other than Sherlock Holmes. With a great huff Molly stood up, pulling the ear buds out and hitting pause on her iPod. Now was not the time for her to be listening to sad music. She returned to the microscope she had been sitting in front of, but couldn't focus on the slide that she was supposed to be studying.

"Damn." She muttered.

After cleaning up the slides she strode towards her office, deciding that perhaps now would be a good time to peruse through the pile of mail she had brought with her. There was never much to do whilst working the graveyard shift.

She settled down into her chair behind her desk and began to look through her mail. She ignored most of it, noting that they were junk. Her fingers stilled, as her whole body grew tense, when her eyes landed upon a thick cream envelope. She dropped the rest of the mail onto her desk, keeping her gaze locked on the envelope in her hands. Her heart was beating rapidly, practically pounding in her chest. She wanted to open it, but she was also terrified. Terrified of what the inside contents would reveal. Would it be a yes? Or would it be another rejection?

Taking a steadying breath she slipped her fingernail under the seal and broke it. Another breath and she pulled out the paper inside. She let the envelope fall, unfolding the letter.

_Dear Dr. Hooper, _

_ We are pleased to accept your application …_

The rest of the words blurred before her as her eyes filled with tears.

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><p>Molly hated farewell parties. She had always tried her hardest to duck out of them whenever a co-worker was leaving. To her, these types of parties were awkward and sad. She never knew what to say, more often than not stumbling over her words and making a complete fool of herself.<p>

Now she was on the other side. The farewell party was for her. She was rather grateful that no one expected her to give a speech. At the moment all she really wanted to do was go home and finish up the rest of her packing. Thankfully the party was starting to die down; most people had already left, wishing her the best in her new endeavors.

Thirty minutes later the party was over. Just as she was making her way towards her office, her office that would soon be hers no more, she heard her text tone chirp.

Come to Baker Street. – SH

Please. – SH

Molly sighed. Of course he would know of her departure. She had considered not going to say goodbye to him, but that thought had quickly left her mind. She couldn't be that cruel.

Making sure that she had taken all of her things from her office, giving it one last go-over, she said her final farewells to Mike and Meena and departed from Bart's for the last time. Her heart gave a slight lurch as she stepped from the building. She didn't look back, instead hailing a cab.

After giving the driver the address to Baker Street, she settled back into the cushion and took a few unsteady breaths and allowed several tears to fall from her eyes. She dashed them away quickly. Not wanting to cry anymore. She had cried too much already.

Upon arriving outside Speedy's, Molly felt her heart give another lurch, a cold dead weight forming in the pit of her belly. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew that he was looking out the window. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths she let herself into 221B and climbed the stairs. He was still standing at the window when she entered, his back to her.

"You wanted to see me?" She questioned.

He spun about as soon as she finished talking, "… Molly!"

Her heart gave another jolt. She wished it would stop doing that. But this, this was all a bit strange. This was far too similar to that day he had asked her to solve crimes with him. He stepped towards her. She didn't move to take off her coat. Their gaze locked.

"You're leaving."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes." The word came out of her mouth a little too breathy.

"But you love London. And you love your job."

She took in a deep breath, "Yes, to both."

"Then why are you leaving?"

She took in another deep breath, "It's an excellent job offer."

The look he was giving her let her know that he didn't believe that this was the only reason.

She let out a sigh, her eyes dropping from his strong stare, "I'm not happy here."

"Not … happy." He spoke these words slowly, mulling over them in his mouth.

"I want to be in a relationship Sherlock. I'm tired of being alone."

"And you think that by moving to America you'll find … love?"

She gave an unconvincing shrug, "I don't know. It just seemed like a good place to start."

"You don't think that you can find someone here?"

She refused to look up at him, instead focusing her eyes on the carpet, "With my current track rate? No. And definitely not with you hovering around all the time. It's useless."

Several beats of silence passed. Sherlock pushed back the sides of his dressing gown and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

"This is about me, isn't it?"

Her eyes returned to his, flashing with fire.

"Yes of course you would assume that, wouldn't you? It's _always_ about you isn't it?!" She spat.

He leaned back slightly, hoping that she wasn't in the mood for more slapping. Their gaze was still locked. The words were bubbling up inside of her. Words she had held in for so many years, they were threatening to spill out, overflow, be spewed from her mouth. His indifferent gaze was the final straw. The dam broke.

"Yes, you know how I feel about you, you've always known! And that's how you have always been able to manipulate me into doing things for you. Countless things that could have cost me my job! But I did them, because I wanted to help you, I wanted to please you. But no more. I can't do this. I can't see you everyday, be around you all the time feeling like this. It's killing me inside. You wouldn't understand because you don't do sentiment or caring. You have no idea about any of it." She took in a deep breath before continuing on, "There is nothing quite like the pain of loving someone and knowing that they will never love you back the way that you want them to." She paused, still hoping that possibly, just maybe, he would say something, anything. But no. He stood there entirely mute. "Goodbye Sherlock. I don't think we'll ever see each other again." She turned, placing the key to the flat on the coffee table before walking out, feeling as if her heart was now shattering into a million pieces.

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><p>"You absolute cock!" John was positively fuming, "What the fuck is your problem Sherlock? You need to go to her before she leaves. Stop doing this pathetic, twisted dance around your feelings and just accept them and let her know!"<p>

Sherlock was sat in his chair. Fingers steepled, eyes closed. It was far too tempting for John to walk over and punch him in the face. He strode towards Sherlock, but held himself back; knowing that hitting him would be futile. He leaned down, his face close to his.

"If you don't stop her, if you don't tell her that you love her too, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." He spoke this in a fierce tone.

Sherlock's eyes flew open, meeting John's, "Don't be ridiculous."

All restraint left John. He pulled his arm back before thrusting it forward, his fist connecting with Sherlock's jaw. The chair scooted backwards from the force of his punch. Sherlock rubbed at his jaw as John stepped away from him, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Stop lying to yourself Sherlock. It won't do you any good. It won't do her any good. You think you're being some sort of hero, protecting her from yourself, keeping her at bay. I know that's what you think, Sherlock that she deserves better than you. And you're right. She does deserve better. But it's clear to me that she doesn't think that. She loves you, she wants you, just the way you are. After all the things that you have done to her, asked of her, she has never once stopped loving you. Go to her Sherlock. Put an end to both your misery. Accept the fact that you two belong together."

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><p>Molly had checked, and doubled checked her ticket. She also repeatedly made sure that she had her passport and other essentials in her carry-on bag. She wasn't a nervous traveler, never had been. She had always loved flying. And this was going to be the longest flight she had ever been on. And yet, she couldn't sit still. She was restless, uncertain. Had she made the right decision? Was going to America the answer to all her problems? Or was all this a completely foolish mistake?<p>

Multitudes of thoughts like this swirled about her head as she waited for the cab to arrive that would take her to the airport. She tried to distract herself by looking around at her empty flat. It was strange seeing it so barren. Her heart ached at the thought that she had given up Toby to a friend. She couldn't subject him to the six-month quarantine.

The sound of a horn honking brought her back to the present. She gathered up her things, took one last look around the flat then walked out and shut the door tightly behind her. After dropping off her keys to the land lord she stepped outside. The cab driver was waiting for her. He took her luggage from her and placed it in the boot. She went and sat in the back of the cab. Just like with Bart's, she didn't allow herself to look back up at the building.

The driver got into the cab and began to drive down the street. She stared down at her hands in her lap, not wanting to watch London go by. If she had been looking up, she may have noticed the driver repeatedly casting glances at her through the review mirror.

"Going on holiday, miss?" The driver had a thick, Scottish brogue.

"No. I'm moving to America." Her voice sounded sad as she answered him.

"Ahh, you don't sound very pleased about that."

"Oh, I am. I am." She said this a bit too quickly, "I'm very excited. I've got a whole new life before me."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

Molly froze, growing tense. The Scottish accent had disappeared, replaced by a far too-familiar English accent. A deep, English accent. Her eyes flew to the rearview mirror, the driver's face in full view.

"SHERLOCK BLOODY HOLMES!" She roared, he flashed her a pleasant smile, as if he commonly did this sort of thing.

"This is bloody kidnapping Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? I have a flight to catch!" She all but screamed at him.

He kept his gaze straight ahead as he maneuvered the car through the traffic, "Not anymore you don't. Mycroft cancelled your ticket."

She spluttered, "What? He wouldn't!"

Even though Sherlock wasn't looking at her she was staring daggers at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes flitted to the mirror for a second before returning to the road before him.

"He did."

Molly cursed loudly, throwing herself back into the cushion and crossing her arms in front of her chest. If Sherlock hadn't known her better he could have sworn that she was pouting.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked him after several moments of silence had passed, noting that they were not going in the direction of the airport.

"To Baker Street."

"Why?"

"Because there is something we need to do."

She hugged her arms closer to her chest, staring angrily out the window. When they arrived at Baker Street he parked the car and got out. He walked over to her door and opened it cautiously.

"Are you going to come up without a fight or will I have to carry you?"

Her glare would have turned a lesser man into stone. She got out of the car and followed him inside. Upon entering the flat he spun about and faced her.

"Stay there. Don't move. And don't take off your coat."

With that said he hurried passed her and disappeared into his bedroom. She could leave. She had the chance to, right here, right now. But her feet wouldn't move. It was as if her shoes were filled with lead. Deep down inside she wanted to know what this was all about. What was it that Sherlock was up to?

Suddenly he reappeared, no longer dressed in his cab-driver disguise, but wearing black trousers, a button-up shirt and a dressing gown; the brown one. He stood before her, his hands in his trousers pockets. She stared at him, waiting. Their eyes were fixed on each others. His voice suddenly broke through the silence.

"Yes."

She looking at him questioningly, knowing that she hadn't said anything.

"Yes, Molly, I would like to have dinner with you."

He took a step closer to her.

"Yes, Molly, I would like to have coffee with you."

He took another step. And another. Until they were toe to toe. She had to tilt her head back to keep her gaze locked on his. Ever so slowly he brought his hand up and cupped the side of her face.

"Yes, Molly. I do love you."

She was breathing heavily. He could practically feel the rapid tattoo of her heart. Her eyes fell closed. He leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers, bringing his other hand to rest upon her hip. Suddenly she had her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer to her in order to deepen the kiss. He moved his hand from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her up against him. Within moments their mouths parted and their tongues danced. Her hands had moved to cradle the back of his head, her fingers running through his curls. They had to part in order to catch their breath, although neither one of them wanted to. He continued to hold her close, his forehead resting against hers.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream." She whispered.

He gave her a quick, tender kiss, "This isn't a dream Molly. This is real. And I mean every word that I said. I'm sorry it took so long for me to finally tell you."

She brushed her nose against his, "I should have tried leaving England sooner."

He chuckled softly before kissing her again. She moaned against his mouth. That sound did something to him. He nudged her backwards, pressing her into the door. She gasped as he parted their lips, placing his mouth upon her neck and leaving a trail of wet kisses. She moaned again as he suckled at her pulse point.

"Can we—do you think we could move somewhere a bit more comfortable?" She whimpered out, his teeth grazing across her skin.

He lifted his head and looked down at her for moment, then he gave a wordless nod and took her hand in his, leading her towards the bedroom. She had actually meant the sofa, but sure, the bed was a perfectly fine alternative.

Upon reaching the bedroom he shut the door behind them, and then pulled her back up against him for another deep kiss. He pulled away, wordlessly asking a question that desperately needed answering. She nodded; pulling him back down to her for another heated kiss as she unceremoniously shoved his dressing gown off of his shoulders. He grabbed her hands as the dressing gown fell to the floor, bringing them to his chest. Their foreheads were now touching and they were gazing into each other's eyes, both of them panting slightly. He released her hands, letting them fall to the buttons of his shirt as he dropped his hands down to her hips and gave her jumper a tug upwards.

In spite of the passion-filled kisses, they managed to slowly undress each other, piece by piece falling to the floor; their hands wandering, brushing over newly-revealed skin. Once they were both entirely naked he eased her down onto the mattress.

Gone was the shy Molly Hooper. She was laid bare before him now, in more ways than one. She didn't move to hide or cover herself. He kissed, suckled and nibbled her body. Worshipping her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, that delicious apex between her legs, telling her without words how much he loved her. When she cried out with pleasure, from the ministrations of his mouth, tongue and fingers, he felt a great shiver of pride run through his body.

He brought his mouth back up to hers and kissed her hungrily. She clung to him, hooking her leg over the back of his, lifting her hips up towards him. Letting him know what she wanted, what she needed. He wasn't about to deny her anything. He surged his hips forward, entering her in one swift movement. Their bodies acted as one, settling into a rhythm as if they had been together always; knowing exactly what the other liked. They took it slowly, reveling in the sensation their joined bodies were creating. Eventually her moans grew more desperate and his thrusts more erratic, as they neared the fruition of their coupling.

She clung tightly to him, hugging his hips with her thighs. He groaned into her mouth as they kissed again. It took only several more thrusts before both of them were crying out as their orgasms washed over them. He panted into her shoulder, certain that no drug could ever surpass the feeling that her body around him had just created. Once their breathing had slowed he lifted himself up, hovering over her, his skin brushing up against hers.

"Stay with me? Always?" He questioned softly.

"_Always_."

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><p>.<p>

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**So many fluffy feels. **

**Excuse me while I go off and die from the fluffy feels!**

**Haha, sorry, I just really love how this turned out :)**

**Leave a review, I love them so!**

**FYI: The song John Mayer is singing is called Glad to Be Unhappy, he performs it with the trumpet player Chris Botti 3**


	22. Visitor

**This just came to me yesterday and I sat down and wrote it.**

**It starts out angsty, but turns fluffy because I just can't help it with these two :-P**

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><p>Visitor<p>

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><p>Hospitals were not quiet places. There was always an incessant beeping, either of a heart monitor or some other machine that kept track of the person's vitals. In spite of this though, Molly could not help but find them to be rather peaceful. At least, that's how she used to think of them. Even while her father lay dying, she found the surroundings to help keep her emotions at bay, and her heart and mind calm.<p>

But not now. Not this time. Not when Sherlock Holmes, the man she was still so desperately in love with, lay stretched out before her slowly recovering from a bullet wound that had very nearly killed him. It was nearing two am, and he had yet to wake up.

She needed to hear his voice. She needed to feel his silvery-blue gaze upon her. She needed to know that he was all right. She needed to know that he would still be there, just out of her reach. She needed to ask him, have him promise her, that he would never go near drugs again. She needed to tell him that she loved him, and that she would never stop loving him, no matter what.

"Please wake up." She softly implored, "Please."

Molly had her fingers clasped around his, her forehead resting on the top of his hand. She hadn't even realized that she was repeating the same words over and over, asking him, begging him to wake up. Suddenly she felt his thumb lightly sweep across hers. Her head shot up, his eyes were narrow slits.

"You're awake." She breathed out.

He tilted their still-clasped hands so that he could run the tip of his finger over the bare flesh of hers, "_You_ ended your engagement."

In spite of herself, Molly let out a quiet laugh, "Is that all you can say?"

"Why did you end it?"

She tightened her hold on his hand, "Don't you know?"

With a slight flinch of discomfort he brought his other arm over his chest, so that he could brush his fingertips across her cheek, "I'm not worth it Molly. I don't think I could ever make you happy."

She leaned her cheek against his fingers, "I know that's what you think Sherlock, but I don't believe you. You did tell me once that I was the one that mattered most. That couldn't have just been a slip of the tongue; you never have a slip of the tongue."

He dropped his hand down to his stomach, letting out a slow, slightly uneven breath, before tearing himself away from her strong gaze.

"Please Sherlock … can we at least try? I-I think it's worth giving us a chance. And if it doesn't work out, if we can't make a relationship work … then we end it, and we just go back to being as we were."

"I've hurt you so many times Molly, I've said _such awful things_, why haven't you ever given up on me?"

She stared down at their still joined hands before lifting his up and placing a kiss upon his fingers, "Because I love you, you foolish git."

Molly heard his sharp intake of breath, and knew that it wasn't from a sudden surge of pain. Ever so slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Didn't expect that, huh? The Great Sherlock Holmes unable to deduce that mousy Molly Hooper is in love with you."

"I've never thought of you as mousy. But yes, you're right. I never once thought that you were in love with me."

"Just thought it was some silly crush, eh?"

"Not silly, no. I just didn't understand it. I never could fully comprehend why you were interested in me. And I found that greatly annoying; that I couldn't figure you out. I've never been able to read you like I can with everyone else. You are a mystery, Molly Hooper. A puzzle."

"Well … perhaps you would like to spend the rest of your life trying to solve me?"

"Don't joke Molly."

She twitched her nose slightly, "Mmm, you're right, that was rather awful."

He gave her hand a slight tug forwards, "Come here."

"What?"

"Come here, up on the bed. You must be cold."

She blinked at him for a moment then took note of where the wires and tubes were before standing up and toeing off her shoes. All the while he still held onto her hand. She climbed onto the bed and stretched her self out beside him. He turned their hands again, bringing them palm to palm, lacing their fingers together before placing them over his heart. She could feel the steady beating through his skin.

"Can I tell you something, Sherlock?"

"Mmm?" He turned his head, their noses very nearly touching; their eyes locking onto each others.

"I think you're in love with me too."

He breathed out slowly, "Damn. I thought I had hid that so well."

She giggled slightly, "You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. I knew you were jealous of Tom."

"Wellll … more so insulted."

Molly eyebrows knit together, "Insulted?"

"Yes. How dare you get yourself engaged to a near carbon copy of me?"

She giggled again, "I was trying to make you mad, get your attention. Tom's a nice bloke and all, I did like him … but I didn't love him."

"And yet you were going to marry him."

Her eyes dropped down, "Yeah, I was. I had convinced myself during those two years that you were away that I couldn't just sit around and wait for you to come back. There was no guarantee that anything could ever happen between us. So … I met Tom … and we had fun together, and I thought I could possibly be happy with him. If I couldn't have you, I'd at least have someone that closely resembled you. Oh God, saying it out loud just makes me sound pathetic." She hid her face in Sherlock's shoulder.

"Not pathetic, no, you aren't pathetic at all. Molly, look at me."

She tilted her head back, her brown eyes peering up at him.

"You really, truly want to do this, be with me?"

Her answer came instantly, without hesitation, "Yes."

"Even with the drugs, what I did to Janine … all of my rude deductions … you still want … me?"

"Yes."

He held her gaze, "All right."

"All right?"

"Molly Hooper, I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to solve the puzzle that is … _you_."

She blinked back tears, "Was that a proposal?"

"Possibly."

She exhaled a soft laugh as he tightened his hold onto her hand, bringing his other one up to cup the side of her face.

"Aren't we supposed to kiss now?" He asked her.

"Git."

Their lips met. The kiss started out slow, cautious, neither one of them certain of how the other would react. Eventually the kiss grew in passion, deepening. Molly was careful to avoid touching his bullet wound as their hands parted in order to hold each other more fully.

"Molly …?"

She hummed against his lips in answer.

"Thank you for saving my life."

She kissed him again, making sure to file away his words for further questioning at a later time. For now she wanted to just bask in the sensation of his mouth against hers, and his hands roaming across her body.

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**Be sure to let me know what you think!**


	23. Wallpaper

**on tumblr? my personal one is thesecitystreets and my fanfic one is sherlockian87**

**Reviews make me smile! :D**

Wallpaper

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><p>The room was filled with Molly's ragged moans and soft gasps. Sherlock's hand was bracing her hip, his fingertips lightly brushing against the wallpaper; his palm was holding her in place. His mouth was on her, working her into a frenzy with his tongue, while his other hand had his fingers delving in and out of her. One of her legs was hooked over his shoulder. Her moans began to grow more incessant, louder. He added a third finger, nipping at her with his teeth. She cried out, throwing her head back against the wall, her fingers clasping at his curls.<p>

She gently pushed him away from her; the sensation of his mouth upon her and his fingers still inside of her was too much. Pulling himself away from her he stood up, slipping his fingers out and sucking them clean. She watched him with bated breath. He gave her a smile before grabbing both of her hands, lacing their fingers together before pushing her hands above her head.

"Do you like this Molly? Do you want me to take you, just like this, against the wallpaper?"

He had pushed himself against her, his groin rubbing directly against her wet center. They were both still almost entirely clothed, he more clothed than she. He had been too desperate to taste her, to have his mouth upon her to even fathom the thought of waiting until they reached the bedroom.

The whimper that escaped her lips was sign enough that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. There was no stopping it now. They were going to have sex, right here, right now, against the wall of his flat. Unlocked doors be damned.

Releasing one of her hands, but still holding tightly onto the other, he struggled to relieve himself of the restraints of his trousers and pants. He was kissing her neck, suckling and nipping at it as he freed himself. If he wasn't careful, her soft noises of approval would end it for him. She gasped loudly as he rubbed the tip of his aching erection against her.

"Wrap your legs around me, Molly."

She did as he asked, her one free arm moving to drape across his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulder. He kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue, as he plunged himself into her with one deep stroke. Her legs tightened about his waist as he thrust into her again and again. She moaned loudly into his mouth as they continued to kiss.

Her hand tightened around his, as he held her there against the wall. His other hand was once more upon her hip, holding her in place. They parted for breath, his thrusts becoming more desperate. He was groaning uncontrollably now, as she rolled her hips intensifying the feeling.

"Fuck!"

She had thrown her head back, baring her neck to him. He placed a kiss right below her chin, as a low guttural moan escaped her lips. She was close. He shifted himself ever so slightly; changing the angle that he entered her so that he could hit the one spot that he knew would send her directly over the edge.

Her mouth formed a silent "O" as he gave one, two, three thrusts, hitting the spot every time. He kissed her again as her orgasm washed over her, drowning the sound of her crying out. She had always been rather vocal. The sensation of her convulsing around him was enough to send him to the precipice. He groaned into her mouth as he grew still, holding himself inside of her.

Puffs of their hot breath hit the other's cheek as they panted heavily. His forehead was pressed to hers, his nose nuzzling up against her own, their eyes locked on each others. Ever so slowly they slid down the wall. He pulled her onto his lap, cupping her bum in his hands. They hadn't uncoupled. She kissed him, her fingertips tracing along his cheekbones.

"Bedroom?" He managed to croak out.

She nodded.

He slipped himself out of her, rather unwillingly, and helped her to her feet. They were both rather unsteady. She started to giggle as she kissed him again. He picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them. Neither one of them would be able to look at that particular area of the wallpaper with a straight face, ever again.


	24. x Chromosome

**Here's some fluffy pre-Parent!lock feels, since I ended my last chapter of It all Started with a Facial so cruelly! :-P**

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><p>X Chromosome<p>

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><p>It was a quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon at 221B. The one Sunday of the month, that had been agreed upon by both Molly and Sherlock as a 'no case, no work Sunday.' Since both of their schedules were rather sporadic, and his was constantly changing, they had tried their hardest to find at least one day out of each month where they could devote it entirely to each other.<p>

And now even more so things were different, and finding time for just each other was more important. Sherlock slipped his hand over Molly's slightly expanding belly, tapping out a few notes of Mozart upon her skin. She giggled and pulled him closer to her for a kiss.

When they parted for breath she smiled against his lips, "Thank you for agreeing with me."

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, "I rather like not knowing if we are going to have a boy or a girl." He had slid his hand over her stomach again, "Although … I'm sure I'll be able to deduce the sex, depending on how you carry."

She nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth, "Then keep your deductions to yourself!" She tucked her head underneath his chin, bringing her own hand to rest upon his pectoral muscle.

"Does it matter to you, if we have a boy or a girl?" Sherlock questioned.

Molly shook her head, her hair tickling his chest, "No. I just want the baby to be healthy. Although, I think a little boy that looks just like you would be rather nice." She had tipped her head back and was smiling up at him.

He returned her smile, "My mother wouldn't agree, she said that I was an absolute menace growing up."

Molly giggled, "I believe that. Perhaps a girl then? A little daughter with your curls?" She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Just as long as she has your nose." He kissed the tip of it before pressing his mouth to hers.

She hummed against his lips, cradling the back of his head in order to deepen the kiss, "Or perhaps we'll have twins?" She asked, once they had parted.

"Oh … I hadn't thought of that. That is a possibility, isn't it?"

Molly nodded, "My Dad was a twin, and you have twins in your family too, don't you?"

Sherlock leaned back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, "Yeah … on my Mum's side."

Molly curled up against him, "Would that be so terrible?"

He brought his hand up to her back, gently massaging her skin, "No. It's just, for a first child, to end up with two, the thought is rather daunting."

"Tell me about, I'll have to push two babies out, instead of just one." Molly buried her face in his chest.

He brought his hands up to her hair, running his fingers through it in the way that he knew she liked, "Let's not worry about what we don't know for certain, we'll find out more tomorrow at your appointment. And if we end up having twins, then we will have twins! Perhaps in that way we'll end up with both a boy and a girl."

Molly couldn't help but laugh and lifted herself up so that she could hover over him, "Either way, with whatever we end up having, I know that you are going to be a fantastic father."

Sherlock smiled up at her, brushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face, "I hope so. I know that you are going to be a wonderful mother."

She leaned down and pressed her mouth to his, "We'll be the best parents that we can be. Together."

"Together." Sherlock repeated before pulling her back down to him for another kiss.

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**Be sure to leave a review! I love and appreciate them so much! **


	25. Yellow

Yellow

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><p>Molly Hooper loved the colour yellow. It was such a nice, happy colour. She had even painted the walls of her bedroom a sunny yellow. It never failed to improve her mood after she had a bad day, or when Sherlock was being a bit more Sherlockian than usual.<p>

In spite of her love of the colour she hardly ever wore it, except for that dress she had bought for the Watson's wedding. That was until she had gone shopping with Meena. Meena had the tendency to be a bad influence, and make Molly commit impulsive buys.

"This is neither impulsive, nor a bad idea!" Meena exclaimed defiantly as Molly continued to stand there, fingering the silken fabric, "At least try it on. I know you'll look good in it."

"I don't know Meena … I'm not one for fancy under things."

"This isn't for wearing under something you dolt … it's to help make you feel sexy … and give him a little bit of enjoyment … the look a man gets on his face … mmm! Love it!"

Molly blinked at her, "Sherlock doesn't pay much attention to my under wear. He's usually more set on taking them off."

Meena rolled her eyes, "Of all the things that Sherlock is, he is still a man. Trust me Molly, he will notice this."

"Our sex life isn't lacking Meena … it's not like we need a little spicing up or anything."

"Will you stop talking and just go and try it on?"

With a great huff Molly grabbed the pale yellow negligee and proceeded towards the changing rooms. She stripped off her clothes and pulled on the silken fabric. A soft hiss escaped her as the coolness of it brushed against her skin. Damn it all, Meena was right, she did feel sexy.

It clung to her body, but not in an obscenely tight way. It merely hugged her curves; the ones that Sherlock always made sure to mention how much he loved running his hands over. The top dipped down, showing off the hollow between her breasts. The fabric cupped them just enough to reveal their soft roundness. It came down just far enough to hide the fact that she may or may not be wearing any knickers underneath. She bit down on her bottom lip and giggled.

"So it's good then? I was right?"

Molly rolled her eyes as Meena's voice flitted through from behind the curtain. She ran her hands down her sides before answering her.

"Yes, you were right. I'm going to buy it."

Meena let out a cry of success.

Laden with their purchases the pair of them eventually parted their separate ways.

"Be sure to text me how it all goes … no rush though … just let me know … eventually!" Meena said to her with a saucy wink.

Upon returning to her flat Molly texted Sherlock to see if he was busy. He replied shortly that he had just returned to Baker Street from a case. She asked him to come over. His reply came quickly.

I'll need to shower first. Unless you want me traipsing mud about your flat. – SH

I don't want to know, do I? – Mx

No. – SH

I'll be there in 30 minutes. – SH

Molly quickly took a shower then donned the negligee. She snapped a photo, just barely giving a hint of what she was wearing, before sending it to Sherlock. He replied within seconds.

On my way. – SH

I'm waiting. - Mx

She let out a giggle, noting that barely fifteen minutes had passed since their first text conversation. She lit a few candles in her bedroom then sat down upon the bed and awaited his arrival. As soon as she heard his key in the door she straightened her posture. Mere moments passed before he appeared in her bedroom doorway. Her friend had been right; the look on Sherlock's face was one Molly was certain she would never forget.

"Hello …" She said this to him softly as she rose to her feet.

He cleared his throat and strode towards her.

"Like what you see?"

He cleared his throat again, "Ye-es…"

She chuckled softly, then let out a soft gasp as he brought his hand to the edge of the negligee, his fingertips ghosting across her thigh.

"Any more cases today?" She struggled to keep her voice steady as his fingers moved closer towards the apex between her legs.

"Mmmm … just the one …"

"One?" She squeaked out as his entire hand disappeared beneath the fabric, discovering her lack of knickers.

A pleased smile appeared upon his face, "Yes. The one about how long it will take me to remove this from your body."

"Oh!" Her eyes dropped closed as he dragged a fingertip down her wet slit.

"I'd say … fifteen seconds." He noted.

"Ten." She stated firmly.

"You're on."

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**Hehe :D**

**Please leave a review, I love them so! ;)**


	26. Zones

Zones

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><p>Sherlock Holmes loved mysteries. He loved having puzzles that needed to be solved. And when it came to Molly Hooper, there were a multitude of puzzles and mysteries for him to decipher.<p>

Ever since they had entered into a relationship (six months, nine days, and twelve hours), they had yet to consummate it. Sherlock was well aware that Molly was quite willing to do so, but that she was also patient and didn't want to force Sherlock into doing anything that he wasn't as of yet, comfortable with. Sex didn't alarm him. Not at all. He wasn't a virgin, and neither was he inexperienced, he just hadn't previously found it all that satisfying. And thus hadn't continued to pursue it.

But he knew that with Molly this wouldn't be the case. She had once told him that she and Tom had been having 'quite a lot of sex.' Although he was certain that this was slightly a bit more implied than was actually true, he knew that she would like to be able to say the same about them. Women were a bit strange like that.

It wasn't that he didn't want to; they had actually gotten rather close to it a few times. The thing was he was a perfectionist. Yes, that was it; he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to make sure that she was fully satisfied and made well aware of how much he loved her, and loved her body. Research is what he needed. He needed to do research.

John stopped by to check on him (Sherlock had been oddly quiet as of late – no texts in the middle of the night, or calls to join him on a case), he found him curled up in his chair with several piles of women's magazine's surrounding him, and a magazine in his hands.

John's mouth dropped open, then closed, then opened, "What exactly are you doing?"

"Research." Sherlock deadpanned, not looking up from the magazine.

"For a case?"

"Mmmm … nooooo… not exactly."

John eyed him suspiciously for a moment then realization hit him, "Oh. Ohhhh oh oh!"

Sherlock at last looked away from the magazine, "Surely one 'oh' would have sufficed!"

John merely shrugged, "Learning anything good?"

Sherlock returned to the magazine, "Somewhat."

"That's a favourite of Mary's," John noted, nodding at the magazine Sherlock was holding, "We've both gained some valuable information from that." He kept his gaze far away from Sherlock, not exactly wanting to think of him and sex in the same sentence. That was too strange of a mental image. He cleared his throat, "Does uhh … Molly know about this?"

"No."

"Ahh … surprising her then?"

"Yes."

"Good luck mate, I'm sure you both will enjoy it."

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><p>Come to Baker Street after your shift. – SH<p>

Please. – SH

Molly smiled to herself as she read Sherlock's texts. She sent off a quick reply then returned to work, assuming that he probably wanted her help with an experiment. Three hours later her shift was over and she got into a cab and made her way to Baker Street. After letting herself in (he had given her a key some time ago) she hurried up the stairs and into 221B.

She froze in her movements, taking note of the fact that there were a multitude of candles lit about the room. Suddenly Sherlock appeared out of nowhere.

"What's all this?" She asked him.

Instead of replying he helped her out of her coat and removed her scarf. Once he hung them up he returned to standing before her.

"I think that it's time we consummate our relationship … don't you?" He declared.

Molly swallowed, "I uhh … only if it's what you want."

He nodded and leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers, "It is." He murmured against her lips.

She took a hold of his shirt and pulled him close up against her, kissing him deeply. He pressed her up against the door, letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her.

"Bedroom." He stated, hoarsely.

She nodded and he stepped away from her, taking his hand in his. But when he moved to make his way down the hall she stopped him.

"The candles! You can't leave them burning!"

He huffed in annoyance, "They're fine! They'll just burn out before they burn down the flat."

"No Sherlock. I don't feel comfortable leaving them lit."

He unwillingly released her hand, and she walked over and blew each one of them out. Unbeknownst to her, she was giving him quite a delectable view of her arse. When she returned to his side he pulled her flush up against him and kissed her once more, before hurrying her towards the bedroom.

Once the door was shut behind them he released her so that they could catch their breath. She took note that there were more lit candles, casting a soft glow about the room.

"Researching?" She questioned, raising a teasing eyebrow.

"Yes."

They became silent as they kissed again. Both sets of hands began to wander, unbuttoning and unzipping until they were unclothed. They had yet to be entirely naked before each other, and Molly couldn't help but be slightly self-conscious. The admiring look that Sherlock was giving her quickly quelled her fears.

He nudged her towards the bed and after giving her another kiss he whispered into her ear, "Lie down, on your stomach."

She gave him a questioning look.

"Experiment."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Pleasure experiment." He quickly added, "Erogenous zones. I want to discover your erogenous zones."

"Ohhh …" She lifted up her arms and placed them about his shoulders, "Fair enough."

She was standing so close that her breasts were brushing up against his chest. The sensation was so distracting that he nearly chose to forgo the experiment and have her right then and there.

"Please?"

Good Lord, it sounded as if he was begging.

She smiled up at him then did as he asked. She got up onto the bed, and turned her back to him before laying her head down upon the pillow, stretching her legs out behind her as she laid down upon her stomach, placing her arse on perfectly display for him. What a glorious view it was. He took in a few steadying breaths before climbing up onto the bed. He slid himself up alongside of her. She was looking in the opposite direction. He splayed his hand out on her upper back, and she shuddered slightly beneath his touch.

"Shall I begin?" He asked her softly.

She gave a wordless nod.

**Ears**

Ever so slowly he leaned forward and brushed the tip of his nose along the shell of her ear. He allowed his warm breath to ghost over her skin, feeling a slight shiver course through her body, where his hand still rested on her back. Dipping his head down further, he took her earlobe between his teeth and gave it a gentle nibble. Her quick intake of breath was enough to let him know that this was a _yes_; he had hit upon one of her zones.

Pushing himself up from the mattress he hovered over her, cursing softly as the tip of his cock brushed against the cleft of her arse. Another sharp intake of breath from her. Dropping down onto her other side, where she was now facing him, their eyes met. Her pupils were already fully dilated, almost entirely black. She thought he was moving forward to kiss her, but no. He brought his mouth to her ear, and repeated the same ministrations. Her breathing had already started to grow heavier. Her eyes dropping closed.

**Nape**

Lifting himself up once more, he made certain to keep his body well away from hers as he hovered over her again. With one of his hands he brushed away her hair from her neck; it was still pulled back in an elastic band. He would have preferred for her to be wearing it down, but for the moment he let it be. Once her neck was laid bare for him he dipped forward and lightly brushed his lips directly across her nape.

"Ohhh."

Another _yes_.

He trailed his lips along her hair line before slipping out his tongue and dragging it across her skin.

"Mmmm."

He massaged at her nape with his mouth, catching faint hints of the lotion she had put on that morning. With a final brush of his nose along the length of her neck he shifted himself downwards.

He splayed out his hands, muttering softly to himself as he moved them over her muscles, "Trapezius, Deltoid" he dragged his hands further downwards, "Teres Minor, Teres Major," stopping briefly to knead her, "Latissimus Dorsi, Thoracolumbar Fascia."

She was moaning softly, clearly enjoying the massage he was giving her. He hit a couple of knots, making sure to work them out before continuing down towards his next destination.

**Gluteus Maximus**

Molly let out a slight hiss when he gave her arse a tender slap. She then pushed her face into the pillow and giggled. He cupped each cheek in his hand and gave them a tender squeeze. Her skin was so soft, pale, and supple. He kneaded her with his fingertips, catching onto the moan that she let out into the pillow. He had been certain that this would be a _yes_, and he had been right. Of course.

Releasing her from his hands he gave each cheek a slight nibble with his teeth. She giggled again. He returned his hands to her, running them up and over the curves of her bum. It would have been so easy for him to spread her apart, allow him to see how wet he knew that she already was for him, and delve his tongue in between her folds. But he didn't. There were more zones he needed to discover. With a final nip of his teeth he slid further down her body.

**Back of the knee**

He would have paid a bit more attention to the backs of her thighs, but there was a particular area that he wanted to reach. He placed one hand on the back of her knee, right where it would crease, while dragging his tongue across the other. Yet again, her noises were assurance enough. He nuzzled her, teasing at her other one with his fingertips, before switching over. She giggled again, twitching slightly when he touched her with his fingers.

"Sensitive." He murmured into her skin.

"Mhmmm."

He tickled her again and she shrieked. He chuckled into her skin, placing a final kiss before sitting up.

"Roll over." He murmured to her after giving her body a final one over; committing to memory the image of her laid out before him so willingly. She did as he asked, coming to rest on her back. He leaned down and kissed her. She sighed happily into his mouth. He was pleased to know that she was enjoying herself. He separated their mouths and slid his downwards, over her throat, stopping to suckle at her clavicle ever so slightly before shifting his body so that he was hovering over her once more.

**Breasts**

He had once told her that she was trying to compensate for her lack of breasts. Not so, not so at all. He did not think that now, not after seeing them on full display for him. He found them quite pleasing, and perfectly sized.

As soon as he cupped one in his hand and placed his mouth on the other, her soft moans were evidence enough that this was a _yes. _He took his time, making certain to lavish attention upon each of her breasts equally.

He suckled at her dusty pink nipples until they both became stiffened peaks. While his mouth was on one, his fingers were gently stroking and pinching the other. He circled the outline of her areolas with his tongue, nipping ever so slightly with his teeth. He then moved to the tender underside, alternating between nibbling, suckling and nuzzling her there and massaging her with his fingertips. He gave each nipple a final suck before moving downwards over her ribs, her stomach.

The soft mound of curls was so inviting to him. He struggled to push himself up, away from her beckoning center. A disappointed whimper came from her. Ignoring her noises he pushed himself down to the bottom of the bed.

**Feet**

Her disappointment turned into a giggle as his mouth trailed along the top of her foot, slipping downwards towards her toes. His fingertips ghosted along the bottom of her heel, crossing over her arch. She giggled again, her foot jerking slightly.

"Ticklish?" He questioned, looking up, his eyes meeting hers.

She nodded.

"Hmm … _nope_." He popped the p, as always, and placed another kiss upon the top of her foot before placing it back down upon the mattress.

**Inner Thighs**

He now began to slide upwards, spreading her legs apart. Her breath hitched as he kneeled between her calves. He locked his eyes on hers as he dropped his mouth down to her inner thigh.

"Ohh…"

A successful, _yes._

He alternated between sucking, licking and stroking her skin with his fingertips, before moving over to her other thigh. He dropped his gaze, allowing it to land upon the apex between her legs. Her folds were glistening now, parted, allowing him to see her in full. His cock gave an agreeable twitch. The sight of her, made so aroused by him was rather pleasing. Distracting her with the tiniest of nibbles he slid his hand up and delved two fingers into her welcoming core.

**Grafenberg-Spot**

The gasp she let out as he curled his fingers inside of her, pressing against her upper wall, sent a thrill down his spine and directly into his aching cock.

"Oh God!" She moaned, gripping at the bed sheets, her knees rising slightly as he continued to stroke her there.

Deciding to go for two zones this time, he moved his head up and wrapped his lips around her clit.

"Fuck!" She cried out.

Her hips rolled upwards as he continued to work his fingers inside of her, lapping at her clit with his tongue. These two zones were a most definite, _yes_. A wild moan erupted from her throat as her body shuddered beneath him before collapsing down upon the mattress. He glanced up at her, pulling his mouth away and slipping his fingers out. She was breathing heavily, her body beautifully flushed. He sucked his fingers clean, amazed by how much he enjoyed the way she tasted.

**Completion**

For a few moments neither spoke a word. He hadn't moved from his spot, not wanting to distract her from recovering from her orgasm. It clearly had been quite - what had that ridiculous woman in the magazine called it? – mind shattering. Molly at last opened her eyes and peered down at him.

"Are you done with your experiment, or is there more?"

Sherlock finally moved himself upwards, stretching himself out beside her, "Well … I think I've filed away enough data about your erogenous zones to be able to pleasure you again …"

She pushed herself up slightly, "That's not exactly what I mean Sherlock …"

"Oh?"

Her gaze dropped downwards and she slipped her hand forward and placed it gently on his fully-hardened cock. That felt perhaps a bit too good. She wrapped her hand entirely around him, giving an all-too gentle squeeze. His eyes dropped closed.

"Is this all you wanted to do tonight, or … is there more?"

"More." He croaked out.

Her soft laugh forced him to open his eyes. She was gazing at him through her eyelashes. She snuck out her thumb and brushed it across the head of his cock.

"Shall I return the favor or do you … want to get on with it?"

"Get on with it? That's a horrible choice of words."

She shrugged, "Do you want to shag me or not?"

He pressed his mouth to her own and kissed her deeply, "I'd prefer the term, make love. And yes, I do want to make love to you."

Ever so slowly he eased her down onto her back, and positioned himself over her. Her hand was still around his cock and she gave him a few pumps. He couldn't hold back a groan, resting his forehead against hers. She smiled up at him.

They had long ago had a discussion about condoms and if they were clean or not. She had a birth control implant, and he was glad of this. He didn't want to wear a condom if he didn't have to, wanting to feel her in entirety.

"I need you inside me Sherlock." She spread her legs further apart; his cock was hovering directly above her wet entrance. She tilted her head slightly, so that she could move her mouth to his ear, "I ache for you." She whispered to him.

With that said she released his cock and he slid into her in one swift stroke. She hissed slightly as he filled her entirely with his girth. His eyes widened in shock, not having quite expected her to feel so incredible around him. _Quite a lot of sex indeed. _He was certain he would never grow bored of the sensation of her tightness surrounding his cock.

"God Molly, you feel so …" His sentence was cut off with a moan as she rolled her hips, pressing them up against his.

He kissed her as he began to move, groaning into her mouth when she lifted up her legs and hooked them around his waist so that he penetrated into her deeper.

The room became filled with sounds of flesh upon flesh, their ragged breathing and their moans as he continued to thrust inside of her. His mind had grown deliciously mute; all he could focus on was her body beneath him, and her sweet wetness sheathing his cock every time that he entered her.

"Fuck! Oh, you feel so good Sherlock! Oh God, I'm so close!" She whimpered.

He moved his hand down between their joined bodies and swirled his fingertips over her clit. She cried out and became beautifully undone beneath him. With one final thrust he came as well, emptying himself inside of her. His body grew still. He shuddered slightly with the effort to hold himself up so that he didn't collapse on top of her.

She gave him a gentle nudge and he fell to the mattress, pulling her with him onto her side, their bodies still joined. She lowered her leg slightly, pressing her forehead against his. Neither one of them were able to form words yet. After a few moments of catching their breath he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

"Are you all right, like this?" He asked her, taking note that he was laying on top of her other leg.

She nodded, "For right now, I am." She kissed him again.

He slipped his arm about her waist and pressed her closer up against him. She hummed against his mouth in contentment.

"Good experiment." She murmured, when they parted for air.

He chuckled, "I think we may need to try it out a few more times, gather some more data."

She hummed again, resting her head against his shoulder, "Yes. I need to discover your erogenous zones."

"Oh … I hadn't thought of that."

She let out a quiet laugh before pressing her mouth to his skin. At the sound of his moan, she laughed again, "I think I may have found one already." She nipped at his skin with her teeth and he let out a low growl.

"Save that for later." He hissed.

She chortled this time, "Yes. Perhaps so. Rest, now would be good." She lay her head back down onto his shoulder, "We have plenty of time for all of that."

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**It's safe to say that I enjoyed writing this a bit to much ... hehe :D**

**Please leave a review, I love them so! **


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